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A RAILROAD WAIF. 


BY 



MRS. C. B. SARGENT, 


Author of " Glimpses of the Celestial Country,” 
“ The Mother and her Children,” etc. 


Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these 
my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.— Matt, xxv, 40. 




CINCINNATI 

CRANSTON AND STOWE. 
NEW YORK: 

PHILLIPS AND HUNT, 

1885. , 









K 

A V 


Copyright by 
CRANSTON & STOWE, 
1888 . 


CONTENTS 


1. Mrs. Gray and the Waif on the Cars, ... 5 

II. At the Farm, 

III. The Threshers, 

IV. Arthur Montgomery’s Visit, 38 

V. A Shattered Idol, 54 

VI. Ida Rochester’s Visit to New York, 68 

VII. Disenchantment, 78 

VIII. Christian AVork, 91 

IX. Philanthropy, 104 

X. Discipline 118 

XT. Grace Charlton and Howard Warrener, . . 134 

XII. A Wedding and a Death, 152 

XIII. Birthdays: More AVeddings, 167 

XIV. The Railroad AVaip Rewarded, 179 


f OR he whom Jesus loved hath truly spoken: 

. 

^ The holier worship which He deigns to bless 
^ Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken, 
And feeds the widow and the fatherless. 

O brother man ! fold to thy heart thy brother ; 

AVhere pity dwells, the peace of God is there ; 
To w'orship rightly is to love each other. 

Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. 

Follow with reverent steps the great example 
Of Him whose holy work was “ doing good 
So shall the wide earth seem our Father’s temple. 
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude. 

— W IIITTIER. 


A Railroad Waif. 


i 

TRAIN of cars was moving slowly out of 
the Grand Central Station in one of our 

▼ 

large Western cities, when a ragged boy 
7 rushed into the parlor car and begged an 

I invalid lady to let him hide under the sofa 

where she lay, tlie shawl covering her reaching 
to the floor. 

I am afraid that I should do wrong to hide 
you. You have stolen something, or are running 
away from home,” she said. 

“ Sure I live, I ’ra just goin’ back home. 
I live down this road a piece, and just slipped 
away to see the circus. Mammy ’ll be frettin’ 
herself thin if I do n’t get back.” And the little 
fellow, thin and puny himself, rubbed his soiled 
fists in his eyes, to excite the lady’s sympathy. 
“You see, I ain’t got no money to get home; 
paid it all for the circus and some lunch, and the 
conductor ’ll put me off if you do n’t let me hide.” 


6 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


For a moment the invalid’s brain was puzzled ; 
but lunch was no familiar word to a country boy. 
She put on her glasses, and looked carefully at 
him. Yes, he was plainly the growth of some 
city alley. No ruddy, tanned face and sun-burnt 
hair were here, but the sallowness and grime of 
city life among the poor. Little rascal as he ev- 
idently was, her heart ached for him. Her own 
little ones had grown up and gone out into the 
world — some of them into the world of light ; 
and this waif, as the child of our Father, had a 
claim upon her. He had asked her aid, and she 
must help him. 

“ Please let him stay a few moments,” she said 
to the conductor. Do you know any thing 
about him?” 

“No, madam ; but he ’s probably a wharf- rat.” 

“ No more a wharf-rat than you be,” said the 
boy, indignantly. “We had a nice room on 
Cherry Alley, and mother took in washin’, and 
sent me to school ; but the flood druv us out, and 
she worked so hard savin’ her things, and it was 
rainy and cold, and her cough got that bad they 
took her to the hospittle ; and first they would n’t 
let me see her, and then they said she was dead 
and buried.” 

“ Is your father dead, too ?” 

“ No, ma’am ; he ’s in the work’us for heatin’ 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 7 

mother and smasliin’ things up.” And the shame 
on his face made the story credible. 

“ AVhere were you going on this car ?” 

“ ’Way out West and the boy’s eyes sparkled. 
“ Goin’ far out, where they ’ve lots of horses, 
and pay you just to ride roun’ and drive cattle. 
Sometimes you find a gold-mine, and come back 
awful rich.” 

“ My poor boy,” said the lady, that is very 
far away. Unless you had fifty dollars to pay 
for riding in the cars, you would have to walk 
for months to get there. How tired you would 
be, and your feet so sore that often you would 
have to wait for days for them to get healed ! 
You would be compelled to sleep in a tree to be 
safe from wild animals. You would find nothing 
to eat, unless you came to a house, or where 
people were camping out ; and often for days you 
would never see a house or meet any one. On 
the hot, dry plains you would suffer from thirst, 
and would probably lie down and die in a few 
weeks, as thousands of grown people have done. 
You could not find gold without tools to dig 
among the rocks, and if you found any, some 
strong man would take it from you.” 

“ Why, the stories and pictures tell about lots 
of boys who got ahead all right,” said the waif; 
but his face wore a troubled expression. 


8 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


“Would you like to live on a farm here? 
There are cattle and horses and green grass, and 
plenty of fruit, nice milk and butter, and good, 
sweet bread.” The boy’s eyes sparkled. “JS^ow 
tell me your real name.” 

“Jim Mason,” he said, humbly. “You may 
believe me now, ma’am; it’s just what every 
body calls me.” 

She beckoned to the conductor. “ This is a 
poor, homeless waif. You will do me a great 
favor if, in passing through the other cars, you 
will ask if any farmer there is willing to adopt a 
boy of ten, or, at any rate, to keep him until I 
can find a home for him.” 

It was an afternoon of burning sunshine, 
without a breeze. Every body felt uncomforta- 
ble, and no one was willing to assume an unnec- 
essary burden. The boy stood looking anxiously 
at his friend; he had recognized the Christian 
spirit that impelled her to efforts beyond her 
strength, although he could not have named it. 

“ Do n’t you want a cup of water, ma’am ?” 
and, as she nodded assent, he brought it care- 
fully. She was feverish with self-questionings as 
to her duty. One of the lost, whom Christ came 
to seek and to save, seemed to have been sent 
directly to her, and if she declined to do the 
Master’s work, who would take it up? Yet her 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 9 

health and strength were gone, nor could life 
itself long endure such daily suffering. 

She was dependent upon the Christian charity 
of relatives, and was not able even to pay the 
boy’s fare to her destination. Yet clearly came 
to her the passage, “ Whatsoever ye would that 
men should do to you, do ye even so to them.” 
Again she addressed the conductor : 

“There seems no way to provide for this boy 
except to take him myself; but I have not money 
with me to pay his fare to my home. Would your 
company be willing to pass him as a contribution 
to the open-air fund?” 

The conductor belonged to the royal brother- 
hood, and his response was hearty : 

“ I think, ma’am, that if you are willing to 
take care of him, the company may easily give 
him free passage. If they object, I ’ll pay it 
myself.” 

She hastened to explain : 

“ I am going to my brother’s house, and he 
may not be able to keep him. My present plan 
is to feed and clean and dress him up, and then, 
if my brother does not keep him, to find him a 
good home on a farm.” 

“You will do a good deed,” he said. 

The boy sat down on the carpet with a look 
of relief. The train sped on through the hot aft- 


10 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


ernoon sun, while the doubt how her brother 
would receive this guest and the question whether 
she had a right to lay this burden on him made 
her heart beat painfully. 

In the pleasant twilight they reached the sta- 
tion. She gave Jim her parcels, and said to her 
brother, as he lifted her from the car, “ You must 
forgive me ; but I want you to assume this burden 
for a few days, for my sake.” 

“ All right,” he replied cheerily ; and Jim and 
the parcels were soon deposited at their feet in 
the carriage. 

Through the village streets and over rough 
hills they passed, and soon entered the woods, 
through which the farm-road wound. Stately and 
tall rose walnut and beech, maple and oak trees — 
such a strange, grand place aj the boy had never 
seen, — God’s temple of native forest-trees ! A 
sweet, unaccustomed sense of awe stole over him ; 
but as they rode through the gateway, and the 
farm lay before him, astonishment took its place. 

It was a beautiful sight to more cultivated eyes 
than his — the wide sweep of lawn around the 
house, stretching in front to the broad expanse of 
yellow wheat ; on each side orchards ; while at 
the back, sloping down to the broad creek, lay 
the garden. It was a humble rame for the broad 
stream that, in some places, lay deep and still as 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


11 


a pool, while long branches of willow and elm 
and sycamore bent over it ; a few rods farther on 
it dashed and foamed over immense stones. At 
one point a high, unbroken wall of rock, on the 
opposite side, secluded it, and echoed distinctly 
any sentence spoken near. There were no inner 
fences in sight from the house. The whole place 
was inclosed by a hedge and belt of trees, that 
shut off the world, and gave the farm the ap- 
pearance of lying amid primeval forests. Horses 
were tethered in the orchard, and cows and calves 
stood deep in the rich grass, pictures of quiet en- 
joyment. 

Most of til is he did not see that night; for 
then the great attraction was in the lighted house. 
All its doors and windows were open to the cool 
breeze, and the pretty tea-table stood ready, add- 
ing its welcome to the kind words of greeting. 

If only he might stay here ! This was far 
better than any thing he had read in the papers, 
and every body seemed so happy. He would do 
his best to please them, if they would let him 
stay ; and some time he might have a horse and 
cow of his own ! He feasted on the supper; and 
then the old colored man took him into the wood- 
shed, where a tub of water, soap, and towels were 
ready. 

“ It ^s my ’pinted duty to see that you give 


12 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


yesself a powerful scrubbin’, and it ’s your duty 
to do it. I ’ll set right here, and teach ye. Now, 
fust thing, the Mistis said, was to give yer har a 
good scrubbin’. Jest soap dat rag well, and rub 
it all over yer head. Thar, do it agin.- Now 
duck yer head in the tub, and reuse it off.” The 
head came up gasping and half blind with soap. 

Now take that ar towel, and rub it hard. Now 
wash your face and your arms, and then you can 
git in the tub, and scrub yourself clean.” As 
Jim emerged from the bath with a strange sense 
of freshness, he began to appreciate the new lux- 
ury. “Now put on that clean gown, and I’ll 
show you whar to sleep.” Meanwhile old Han- 
nibal had been thoroughly beating and brushing 
the soiled rags. 

The little room over the wood-shed, with its 
open window, its bed of fresh straw, and the 
clean sheets and pillow, seemed paradise to the 
tired boy. He stretched his limbs in the cool 
bed with a sense of rest and enjoyment utterly 
unknown before. He had lain down nightly on 
the musty rags that were his only bed, because he 
could sleep there; but this luxurious rest was a 
new revelation to him. Why, this was better 
than any show. He used to get so hot and tired ! 
If only they would keep him ! Then the strange 
call of the katy-dids attracted him, and he knew 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 13 

nothing more until the morning sun shone into 
his face. 

What strange noises ! He ran to his window 
and looked out. The cows were lowing to be 
milked, the horses whinnying, turkey-cocks pa- 
rading proudly in the sunshine, and roosters seem- 
ing to challenge them by their triumphant crows, 
while some energetic hens were proclaiming that 
they had provided fresh eggs for breakfast. The 
dew lay fresh and sparkling on shrubbery and 
flowers. It was a wonderful fairy-land. Then 
he saw old Hannibal, with a bucket on each arm, 
cross the orchard, and begin to milk one of the 
cows. He eagerly hurried on his clothes, and 
went down to sec this strange sight. He carried 
in one of the foaming buckets, and, after wash- 
ing, they sat down in the clean, sunny kitchen to 
a breakfast that made one hungry to look at it, 
much more so to smell the savory ham and po- 
tatoes and steaming coffee. And there was no 
limit in quantity. The half-starved boy ate as 
he had never eaten before. Last night he was 
shy, and feverish from the hot ride ; now the 
long, quiet sleep in pure air, and the fresh, cool 
morning gave him appetite and enjoyment. After 
breakfast the cook directed him to scrape the 
dishes and put them together, and to give the 
scraps to the chickens. It amused him to see 


14 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


how eagerly they ate, and that, abundant as their 
food supply was, they would leave it to quarrel 
over a coveted scrap. Next he helped the cook 
to wash and afterwards to put away the kitchen 
dishes. 

Soon the family came down to breakfast, and 
Jim watched them furtively from the wide porch. 
There were flowers on the table, and the ladies 
wore pretty, simple morning-dresses, in light 
colors. How many there were! — five ladies, 
and the gentleman, and two boys. And when 
they sat down, how still they were 1 And the 
gentleman prayed! The poor waif had never 
before seen the Christian table consecrated by 
prayer. Only in a church had he heard people 
pray, and this invested the home with a mysteri- 
ous sacredness. 

But they did not stay quiet like church folks 
How merry they were ! The pleasant talk and 
ripples of laughter were new to him. He stole 
away, and sat down on the porch steps to think 
it all over. 

“ Surely this must be the best place in the 
world to live in. Could he ever learn to take 
care of a farm and earn money, and save it to 
buy a little piece of ground, and have a brown 
horse and a white cow, and chickens with such 
pretty top-knots? — yes, and trees full of apples 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 15 

like these — bright red and yellow and green 
apples? O, if only they would keep him!” 

Presently the two lads came out, bringing a 
large easy chair, which they placed under a 
spreading maple-tree near the house. Then Al- 
bert, the younger, brought a footstool and shawl, 
while Edward (a whole head taller than his 
brother) supported their aunt to the easy chair. 
A flood of gratitude rushed over Jim. All these 
delightful things he owed to Mrs. Gray. He 
sprang forward eagerly. 

“I hope you had such a nice bed as I had, 
ma’am, and such a jolly breakfast! Do n’t you 
feel better a’ready?” 

The lady smiled kindly. 

“Yes, it’s very pleasant here. I shall feel 
better after I am rested. You like it, do n’t you?” 

“You bet, ma’am,” said Jim, solemnly. “Once 
Bob Smith coaxed me into his Sunday-school, 
and the teacher told us a heap about a country 
where there ’s flowers and trees and a big river, 
and it ’s never cold or rainy, and she said good 
girls and boys went there when they died; and 
this must look just like it, only I do n’t s’pose 
folks can eat good things after they’re dead.” 

“ No ; but they will have every thing pleasant 
there. It will be as much better than this farm 
as this is better than Cherry Alley.” 


16 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


The sick lady lifted her eyes with a yearning 
look to the clear blue sky, where a few fleecy 
clouds floated, glorious in their sunlit purity ; no 
stain there ! The light only showed their perfect 
freedom from spot or gloom ; and the longing of 
her heart was not for the pure river of the water 
of life, or the tree whose leaves are for the heal- 
ing of the nations, but for the fulfillment of her 
prayer, “Wash me, and I shall be whiter than 
snow.” The glory, the rest, and the saintly com- 
panionship of that wonderful world faded from 
her thoughts before the promise that “ when He 
shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see 
him as he is.” 

Jim watched her rapt look in wonder. When 
she turned to him again, he said, humbly: 

“You know a sight about it, ma’am. How 
did you find it all out?” 

“God gave us a wonderful book, Jim; it is 
the Bible. It tells us about God and heaven ; it 
tells us how this world was made. God made it 
all, the mountains and rivers and trees ; and then 
God made a man and woman, and put them in a 
beautiful garden to live. He made all the birds 
and animals too, and said they should belong 
to this pair of human beings who were named 
Adam and Eve, because they were his children. 
He gave them all the fruit in the garden too; 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 17 

only one tree he said they must n’t touch. He 
wanted them to learn to obey him.” 

“ ’Course they would n’t touch that !” said Jim, 
loftily. 

“ Yes ; they ate some of the fruit, and God 
saw it. He was in heaven ; but he sees all we 
do, and he turned Adam and Eve out of the 
garden, as he said he would if they did n’t obey 
him. They had to go out where the thorns and 
briers grew, and had to work hard and plant 
things to eat. God did n’t mean people should 
be sick, and have trouble, and die ; but sin 
brought it all here, and we shall never get quite 
rid of the trouble that sin brings until we get to 
heaven. There will be no sin there. But, Jim, 
if we want to get rid of sin, we must try every 
day, and ask Jesus to help us.” 

“Jesus!” repeated Jim, doubtfully. 

“Yes; he is God’s Son, and he will save us.” 

But just then Miss Ida appeared from the 
house. 

“ You are troubling yourself too much, Mary,” 
she said. “ Let Jim go with me to the garden 
to gather vegetables for dinner. I’ll look after 
him.” 

A new world of wonders opened to the boy 
in the growth of plants, — potatoes dug out of the 
ground, beans gathered from high poles, large 
2 


18 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


yellow squashes lying on the straggling vines, 
scarlet tomatoes shining out from their dark green 
leaves, tall rows of green corn that seemed whis- 
pering as the air stirred them ! He could scarcely 
confine his attention to his work while so many 
wonders beckoned him. 

Then Miss Ida took him into the kitchen, 
and showed him how to assist her in preparing 
the vegetables for dinner. 

“ I will teach you all I can,” said the ener- 
getic young lady ; “ but you must try hard to 
learn. Your head and your hands must earn 
your living.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


19 


^ ISS GRACE CHARLTON, the ouly daiigh- 
ter, sat in her pleasant room, stitching 
away at a suit of clothes belonging to her 
/ brother Albert, that she had cut smaller 
i for ragged Jim. The work would be a 
success; for she had been able to cut away all 
the holes, and had reserved pieces to double the 
thin places. Her heart and lips sang together 
for joy at having even this small work to do for 
the Master, to whom she hoped to devote her life. 

The new clothes would fit Jim for a place, and 
would stimulate him to overcome the evil habits 
that had suited his rags and dirt. She thought 
of him as taking step after step onward and up- 
ward, until he stood in the ranks of workers for 
humanity. How many great and good men of 
the earth had been lifted up from as deep degra- 
dation ! And it might be her privilege to teach 
and help him. All day long she toiled at the 
renovated clothes, and before tea-time had the 
satisfaction of carrying them down, completely 
finished. The work was praised and admired; 
then Mrs. Gray said, pleadingly : “Now, Edward, 


20 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


since Grace has been so good to me, may I not 
ask as much of you? I would like to have you 
take your pony, and inquire among the best farm- 
ers for a place for Jim.” 

“ Why, auntie, I thought you meant to keep 
him,” replied the boy. 

“ My dear, it would not be I but your father 
who would keep him. I have no right to lay 
the burden on him. But I do feel responsible 
for the poor child, and you will do me a great 
favor if you find him a home where he can un- 
learn Cherry Alley.” 

I ’ll try hard, auntie ; but some of these 
farmers are probably as bad ; only the good people 
are worth asking.” 

For two or three days Edward rode from farm 
to farm, appealing to the kind charity of the 
farmers, and representing the wisdom of training 
up a farm servant. 

“ Why do n’t your pa train him for your own 
farm?” asked a heavy, round-faced man, who 
seemed to consider the question a good joke. 

“ Because he has Albert and me,” answered 
the young man. 

“ O shoo, now !” was the reply. You ’ll 
never settle down on the farm ; you ’ll go to the 
city when your time’s out, and be a lawyer or a 
doctor, or run for some office.” 


A HAIZJiOAD WAIF. 


21 


Never !” said Edward. “ I ’ll not leave the 
farm while father will keep me on it. It ’s the 
best work in the world — next to one. Good 
morning !” and he rode rapidly away. 

Grace had trimmed Jim’s hair, and given him 
many hints about manner. The strip of white 
muslin at his throat was a constant pleasure. 
Grace had hung a small mirror in his room, with 
a brush and comb beside it, and it was a delight 
to him to go there often during the day, that he 
might see that the collar was in place, and the 
beautiful parting that she had made and taught 
him to keep in order. For the first time in 
his life he carried a handkerchief, and always a 
corner appeared above the jacket pocket. The 
daily bath, the nice room and handsome clothes, 
the refined speech and manner of all about him 
(for no rudeness or coarseness was allowed in 
Mrs. Charlton’s kitchen), — all these were reflected 
in the boy’s manner and speech. He held him- 
self erect, and carefully imitated any peculiarity 
of the young gentlemen. Mrs. Gray felt that 
any farmer would probably be pleased with the 
boy’s appearance ; but again and again Edward 
came home to report failure. 

He had posted placards in the village, request- 
ing any one willing to take the boy to call or 
write to his father; but only one farmer was 


22 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


willing to take him, and there he would find no 
Bible, no Sabbath, and no good influence or 
teaching. Mrs. Gray had written at once to the 
Bible-reader whose district comprised Cherry 
Alley. She knew the good woman well, and was 
sure she would thoroughly investigate the case. 
Now her answer came. Jim’s last story was 
true. The mother had been a decent woman, 
and cared for her boy, until the father threw 
upon her the terrible burden of his own helpless- 
ness and cruelty. Hunger, abuse, and hopeless- 
ness had ruined her health, and the flood only 
hastened the end. 

No one remained to claim Jim ; for the father 
was still in the work-house, and would be no fit 
custodian of the boy when he came out. Mrs. 
Gray could send him up and have him placed in 
the House of Refuge as a vagrant. She would 
attend to the case herself. 

There was one encouraging feature ; his ma- 
ternal grandmother had been a woman of prayer. 
For three years of Jim’s life had she offered ear- 
nest daily prayer for him. 

Tears were shed over the good woman’s letter, 
and many petitions for guidance went up from 
the hearts longing to do good, yet foreseeing 
many difficulties, and dreading the responsibility 
of another immortal soul. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


23 


Again Grace sat in her own room alone; but 
her hands were empty. She was working at 
something harder than the heavy cloth — at a 
question of duty. She knew that her aunt’s mo- 
tive in bringing Jim to the house had been the 
hope of his spiritual good. Ever since she united 
with the Church she had the same desire to 
gather sheaves for the Master. Any toil seemed 
better than failure to do his will; but if this 
proved to be his will, it would require a heavy 
sacrifice. 

Her father had promised to buy her a new 
piano in the Autumn when the crops were sold. 
No one had suggested it to her, but she knew 
that if she gave up the piano it would more than 
pay the expense of feeding and clothing Jim for 
two years. She would teach him herself, and at 
the end of two years his work would be worth 
his keeping, if he proved faithful and indus- 
trious. She would train him so carefully, of 
course she would not fail. But — could she give 
up the piano ? They had only her mother’s old 
one ; all the children had drummed on it when 
little, and now her favorite pieces were spoiled 
by its jingle and harshness. 

The new piano was the only thing that she 
could not give up. She had already chosen it, 
and the salesman had urged her to take it on 


24 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


payments ; but it was one of the peace-preserving 
rules of the Charlton farm-house that no debt 
should be incurred. She might wear her old 
clothes ; but that would save only a little. The 
late Spring and cold rains had made the crops 
light; she could not ask her father to do both. 
So, alone and unaided, she fought out a battle 
of which no one dreamed, in which self-love and 
pleasure opposed duty. Not selfishness, nor lux- 
ury, nor worldliness ; it w’ould have been quite 
right for her to enjoy the new piano ; but this 
seemed a higher duty, and she must choose be- 
tween them. She knew that to many it might 
not seem a duty ; but she would not disregard 
the faintest whisper of conscience, and so discour- 
age its faithful monitions. But she knew where 
to find light and direction : “ I will instruct thee 
and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go. 
I will guide thee with mine eye.” She had asked 
and trusted, and the promised help came. 

“ Father,” she said that evening, as they sat 
on the pleasant porch, after Jim had gone to bed, 
“ if I do without the new piano for two years, 
would you be willing to keep Jim? Would that 
pay you his cost?” 

‘‘Yes, it would pay. But why do you want 
me to keep him, and how could you do without 
the piano that was to make you perfectly hap])y ?” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


25 


Yes, I know, father ; but — that twenty-fifth 
chapter of Matthew ! And Jim was a stranger, 
and naked, and hungry, and thirsty, and half 
sick when you took him in. You know it says, 
‘ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these, ye have done it unto me.’ ” 

For a long time no one spoke. Then the 
father took Grace on his knee, and laid her head 
on his bosom, as he had held her when a child. 
His loving kisses sealed the compact. Hence- 
forth Jim Mason was to them all Christ’s waif, 
to be taught and trained for his service, more 
than for any benefit he might be to the Charlton 
farm. 

Sabbath dawned bright and clear, only a few 
light fleecy clouds to add beauty to a sky blue as 
Italy boasts. A hush, a sense of rest and peace 
lay upon the farm. 

After breakfast Grace saw that Jim w^as neat, 
and gave him a pretty Bible with his name writ- 
ten in it. “Bring it with you,” she said; and, 
-with Albert and Edward, they followed Miss Ida 
along a cool woodland path to the pretty church. 
How clean it seemed ! All the windows were 
open, and the large maple-trees near it tossed 
their boughs in the fresh breeze, and made grace- 
ful, dancing shadows on the wall of the church. 
They had no school-rooms, except a small one for 


26 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


the infant class. After the opening exercises, the 
teachers led their pupils to different parts of the 
church, that they might not disturb each other; 
and Grace asked the superintendent where she 
should place Jim. He looked over the room 
doubtfully. 

In the infant class for to-day ; but that will 
be introducing an untrained element. Miss Grace, 
you have been in the Bible class for three years.” 

Which implies — what?” she asked. 

“That you should be graduated. Two fami- 
ilies not Romish, nor any thing, moved into the 
hollow near the saw-mill some weeks ago, and 
I Ve been hoping our good people would try to 
get the children (if not the parents) to church 
and Sabbath-school. You have now the nucleus 
for such a class. May I write their names for 
you ?” 

When Grace led Jim to his place, she sat 
down to watch him, and to study this new phase 
of duty. Evidently it would be better for him 
to be in a small class, only the singing interested 
him. Both teacher and assistant were too busy 
to watch him, and temptations to mischief were 
numerous. 

The short service over, they went into church, 
and the boy, seated near Miss Grace, imitated 
her attention. The walk home through the woods 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


27 


and a good dinner, prepared the day before, in- 
clined them to rest. Edward took his library- 
book, and read aloud to all who chose to listen ; 
Hannibal and the boys lay on the grass under a 
spreading walnut-tree ; the cook drew Mrs. Gray’s 
chair near, and then sat down on a rustic seat to 
enjoy what was to her and Hannibal the pleasant- 
est part of the day. They always took turns in 
going to Church; but many of the sermons were 
for the faithful sheep rather than for the untaught 
lambs, and Edward always selected the book to 
suit his audience; this was his mission-work. 

Next came a stroll through the orchard or 
by the beautiful creek. At five the large bell re- 
called the wanderers to Miss Catharine’s Bible- 
class. Here the lesson for the next Sabbath was 
studied and made interesting, and the verses to 
be committed to memory explained. Next came 
tea, always with some delicacy in honor of the 
day, and one warm dish to compensate for the 
cold dinner. 

After tea, which was taken at the same time 
in kitchen and dining-room, all assembled in the 
pleasant parlor. Grace took her seat at the piano, 
and led in some familiar hymn, in which even 
Hannibal joined. A well-selected passage of 
Scripture was read by Miss Ida or her sister, and 
Mr. Charlton closed the pleasant service with a 


28 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


short, simple prayer. This ended Jim’s first real 
Sabbath. 

Miss Ida and Grace went, on Monday after- 
noon, to find scholars for a new class in Sabbath- 
school. The new-comers were, as the superin- 
tendent described them, ‘‘not any thing.” They 
had not even taken the trouble to clean the cot- 
tages or to make themselves comfortable in them. 
Rich in children, they were too indolent or too 
ignorant of the first principles of successful in- 
dustry to be any thing but poor, ragged, repulsive 
objects of pity ; and yet pity would be wasted on 
them, and still more would charity. Cumberers 
of the ground as such people are, they yet find 
pleasure in a lazy animal existence. Sunshine, 
food, and ease give more actual enjoyment to 
them than to earnest workers, whose duties fill 
their thoughts. 

Could communists carry out the exact division 
of property that they fancy would right the 
world’s wrongs, such people would not even make 
themselves clean and comfortable with their share 
of money ; far less would they try to elevate and 
educate their children. All would soon be spent 
on sensual pleasures and the acquisition of new 
vices. 

It is one of the problems of our day, “ How 
shall we reach the masses?” Dr. Cuyler says: 


A EAILROAD WAIF. 


29 


“ In God’s sight there is no such thing as the 
masses. God sees only individuals, every one 
unlike every other, and every one the possessor 
of an immortal soul. ‘ Ye shall be gathered one 
by one,’ was the declaration made to God’s people 
in the olden time.” These people will not come 
to our churches; we must carry the Gospel to 
them. “ Blessed are ye that sow beside all wat- 
ers.” Faithfully our friends tried to sow the good 
seed ; and the little baskets of fruit and cakes 
and Scripture cards they carried prepared the 
way for them. 

The mothers promised to wash and mend the 
children’s clothes, and to have them ready, with 
clean faces, next Sabbath morning, when Grace 
would call. Nor did they disappoint her. She 
took great care to interest them in Bible stories, 
and to teach them important truths in texts or 
verses of hymns, committed to memory, and re- 
peated each Sabbath, so as to be a permanent 
possession. The novelty of the lessons, and 
Grace’s sunny, kind manner attracted them, and 
for years they remained under her care, giving 
her the unsual privilege of seeing the seed she 
had sown spring up and grow — slowly and scant, 
indeed — but good seed, giving hope of fruit some 
day. 


30 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 



IM had now regular morning and evening 
^ tasks, — the care of chickens, hunting eggs in 
the large barn, where they were often hidden 
Y away in the straw and hay ; gathering fruit 
and vegetables, and helping prepare them for 
cooking; sweeping the large porch, etc. When 
the sun grew too hot for out-door work, Miss 
Catharine gave him short lessons. 

Edward and Albert studied with her when 
not needed on the farm ; but at busy times they 
worked all day long with their father. In Win- 
ter they had full school hours, and pursued their 
studies regularly. Grace took only an hour each 
day for improving reading. She now relieved 
her mother of much of the sewing, and with Miss 
Ida’s instructions, was fast becoming an artist in 
dress-making. Each one had a regular task, and 
as no one else was allowed to do it for them, 
they learned to be faithful and reliable. 

'But all this quiet harmony was disturbed by 
the arrival of several laborers with a machine for 
cutting the wheat. This, though it occupied two 
days, did not disturb them as the threshers did. 


A HAIZBOAD WAIK 


31 


Their custom is to go through a neighborhood, 
each family waiting its turn. For days they had 
heard the shrill sound of the steam-engine; but 
no one knew when to expect them. One morn- 
ing a boy brought word that they would be at 
Mr. Charlton’s that afternoon. Edward took a 
light wagon, and brought supplies from the vil- 
lage — piles of bread, whole hams, cheese, canned 
meats, and sugar and coffee in large quantities ; 
while the cook made doughnuts and pies — food 
that the family never ate, but that is considered 
indispensable by that class of workers. Just at 
nightfall they drove to the barn — three large wag- 
ons full of the heavy machinery, and fifteen men 
to lift, adjust, and manage it. 

But it seemed impossible for them to do any 
thing without oaths. It is strange that this spe- 
cial work, necessary and useful as it is, should be 
left in the hands of the most degraded men. 

Mr. Charlton allowed none of the family to 
go near them. They slept on piles of straw in 
the large barn ; but it was necessary to give them 
their meals in the kitchen, although the decent 
servants would not eat with them. 

Fortunately the torment lasted but a day ; but 
that was long enough thoroughly to demoralize 
Jim. He slipped away to watch the working of 
the machinery, begged a cigar of one man and a 


32 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


drink of whisky of another, and was just able to 
stagger to his bed, when Mr. Charlton discovered 
him and sent him there. But when the boy heard 
them blow off steam at the close of their work 
that evening, he went to his window and saw the 
teams wind slowly out with a longing to be among 
them, to enjoy the old excitements, to plunge into 
the old sins. Alas ! young as he was, they al- 
ready held him with strong chains. The peace, 
the comfort, and luxury of the farm-house seemed 
dull to him beside what he thought the free, jolly 
life of these wicked men. 

How little power have education and culture 
over inborn sins, sometimes inherited and inten- 
sified through many generations ! How useless 
would all our efforts to reform and save the lost 
prove without the omnipotent aid of the Spirit! 

The next day Jim’s head ached terribly, and 
he could not leave his bed, while those who had 
learned to feel a deep interest in him were almost 
hopeless of saving him, and questioned whether 
it would not be better to relinquish the care of 
him to some institution where rigid rules and 
close watching would prevent a similar fall. 

They gathered on the porch that evening to 
consult together as to what course would best 
help the poor child. Some one spoke of the dis- 
advantages necessarily incident to a large insti- 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


33 


tution — the meeting together at times, when one 
could corrupt another; especially the want of 
personal influence and of that strongest agent for 
good, the power of love. 

Grace spoke next ; “ You know, father, that 
the Bible says, ‘ He setteth the solitary in fam- 
ilies.’ Had n’t we better try Jim awhile longer? 
He ’s such a little fellow !” 

Mr. Charlton brought out a copy of Whittier’s 
poems, and read Grace her answer: 

“THE ROBIN. 

“ My old Welsh neighbor over the way 
Crept slowly out in the sun of Spring, 

Pushed from her ears the locks of gray, 

And listened to hear the robin sing. 

Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped, 

And, cruel in sport as boys will be, 

Tossed a stone at the bird, who hoi)ped 
From bough to bough iu the apple-tree. 

‘ Nay !’ said the grandmother, ‘ have you not heard. 
My poor, bad boy ! of the fiery pit. 

And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird 
Carries the water that quenches it ? 

He brings cool dew in his little bill. 

And lets it fall on the souls of sin: 

You can see the mark on his red breast still 
Of fires that scorch as he drops it in. 

My poor brown rhuddyn ! my breast-burned bird. 
Singing so sweetly from limb to limb, 

3 


34 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Very dear to the heart of our Lord 
Is he who pities the lost like him !’ 

‘ Amen !’ I said to the beautiful myth ; 

‘ Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well : 

Each good thought is a drop wherewith 
To cool and lessen the fires of hell. 

Prayers of love like rain-drops fall, 

Tears of pity are cooling dew, 

And dear to the heart of our Lord are all 
Who suffer like him in the good they do !’ ” 

Mr. Charlton took Jim under the favorite 
walnut-tree next day, and told him how anxious 
they all were that he should grow into a good, 
useful man ; then his life would be a happy one. 
He pictured to the boy’s comprehension the life 
beyond, and the freeness with which it is prom- 
ised to those who love and follow Christ. Then 
he told him the true character of the threshers, 
and that their present pleasure was all they were 
sure of; that they had no hope for this life or the 
next; and asked him to choose for himself which 
was best. 

Then he explained to him that the path that 
he had just chosen was a narrow one, broad 
enough for the whole world, yet not broad enough 
for any indulged sin. 

“ I will not ask you to promise me that you 
will not again touch cigars or whisky or those 
vile picture-papers that the men gave you — a 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


35 


promise is a solemn 'thing ; but I am going to 
trust you, Jim. If I find that you do n’t deceive 
or disobey me, this shall be your home; but if 
you do n’t do right here, I must place you in the 
House of Refuge.” 

Several weeks passed quietly, and Jim’s con- 
duct had been so good that they ceased to feel 
anxious about him, when temptation came to the 
waif in an unexpected shape. 

A handsome young gentleman, an old friend 
of the family, came to visit at the Charlton farm. 
When a boy he lived near them, and he and Miss 
Ida had been playmates; but at twenty he was 
taken into business by his uncle, a New York 
merchant. Short, occasional visits he had made 
them in the interval ; but now he was to spend 
his month of vacation with them, and both fam- 
ilies understood that it was in expectation of se- 
curing Ida for his wife, and making arrange- 
ments for their marriage. 

I have not attempted to describe Ida, because, 
attractive as she was, her nobility of character 
was her chief charm, and that is not told in 
words, but in deeds. You must yourself gather 
it from our story. 

But this was not her charm to Arthur Mont- 
gomery. It was as completely lost upon him as 
a fine painting upon a blind man. He loved her 


36 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


for her vivacity and brightness; for the rich 
chestnut hair, whose abundance was a wonder to 
strangers; for the full, brilliant hazel eyes, the 
clear skin glowing with health, the quick, grace- 
ful movements, that reminded him of a bird’s 
motion. And she — it was the tie of old associa- 
tions, the link with all childhood’s sunny memo- 
ries, the day-dreams she had dreamed of what 
her lover should be and of what Arthur had be- 
come, that she loved, not the real Arthur Mont- 
gomery. As to all knowledge of the man him- 
self, of his real character and habits, she also 
was blind. 

True they had corresponded regularly, and 
his letters had been full of interest — descriptions 
of lectures or singers, his idea of new books such 
as she read, of New York life such as she would 
be interested in, occasionally of some celebrated 
preacher ; in fact, he had taken great pains to 
make the letters proper. 

Often, when he sat down to write to her on 
Sabbath morning the letter, that was carefully 
dated for Monday and mailed Monday evening, 
he was compelled to wrap his head in a wet towel 
and to groan with pain between his lively sen- 
tences. But Saturday night was his only free 
night, the only night he dared spend in rev- 
elry without fear of detection. This he escaped 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


37 


in his large boarding-house, and his uncle thought 
him only fond of society and pleasure while his 
feet were already on the fearful incline, up which 
there is so seldom power to return. 


38 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


IV. 

T was impossible not to like the gay, sunny- 
liearted young man ; but Ida gradually dis- 
covered that on all vital points his opinions 
had changed since they parted; for five 
years they had been traveling in diametrically 
opposite directions. The day after his arrival, as 
they were starting for a stroll in the woods, 
Arthur asked: 

“What would you say. Miss Ida, if I re- 
quested permission to smoke a cigar?” 

“ I can not imagine what I should say,” she 
replied, “ as I would not be willing to consider 
the possibility of your offering me such an insult.” 

“ Insult ! AVhy, I have smoked while walk- 
ing with young ladies in the streets of New York, 
and they did not object to it,” said the young 
man, incautiously. 

“Ladies?” queried the high-spirited girl. 

“Yes; stylish, elegant, wealthy ladies,” said 
Arthur, curtly; then, after a moment: “ I do not 
wonder that you are surprised at some of the cus- 
toms of modern society, they are so unlike those 
of our childhood ; but as you become familiar with 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


39 


them you will see that they allow larger liberty 
to woman as well as man. When you make me a 
home, it will be a handsome one, with servants to 
relieve you of all labor. You will go out and re- 
ceive company freely; all your time will be yours 
for enjoyment. During business hours I shall 
be obliged to be at the store ; but you will soon 
find friends to go out with you. I shall always 
be at home by five, and after our six o’clock 
dinner I will take you everywhere — to recep- 
tions, the opera, the theater. This quiet farm- 
house is no place for you. You will enjoy soci- 
ety, and shine in it.” 

Still Ida walked beside him in silence, although 
her face flushed and her lip quivered. 

“ Tell me, Ida, how have I offended you?” he 
pleaded. “ All my plans have been made for your 
happiness.” 

“ Are you judging me by your own tastes 
when you plan for such a round of gayety? 
Would the pursuit of pleasure make you happy? 
Are you not the same innocent Arthur to whom 
I pledged myself? I have always fancied a quiet 
home, with books, music, simple pleasures, and 
time to enjoy our own society, superior church 
privileges, and opportuni ies of influence for good 
and of active usefulness. Would not these make 
you happy?” 


40 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Of course, I could be happy anywhere with 
you,” he said warmly. 

“ But without these pleasures you had planned, 
without indulging in what are called the small 
vices of society? Answer me truly, Arthur; for 
not to know the truth now might wreck the hap- 
piness of both.” 

They sat down on a rustic seat, and for a long 
time both were silent. Ida’s heart trembled for 
the bright future that seemed slipping from her 
hope; but her silent prayer was for light and 
guidance. At last he spoke : 

Ida dear, when you live for awhile in New 
York you will see how necessary society is to 
happiness. There are no simple pleasures there. 
Show and glitter and excitement make the life 
of all who have means to enjoy them. If I were 
a poor man I would not take you there ; but 
since I can offer you the best the metropolis 
affords, why should you not enjoy it? You will 
go nowhere that you will not meet clergymen and 
their families. The majority of society people 
are Church members. You can select your church 
and have a handsome pew, and I will accompany 
you whenever you wish to go. Your pastor will 
be an educated, cultivated gentleman — quite dif- 
ferent from any thing you have known here — 
and he will be one of your guests. All society 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


41 


pays homage to religion. During Lent there 
will be DO gay parties or entertainments, and tho 
most elegant ladies fast and go in mourning to all 
the Church services on Ash Wednesday and Good 
Friday. Yes, you will find religion more hon- 
ored and more openly professed than in the 
country.” 

Something of Bunyan’s idea of religion walk- 
ing in silver slippers floated through Ida’s mind, 
but she could not answer the sophistry of his 
appeal. 

“ I can not quite understand this, Arthur; it 
is new to me. But I think I never could enjoy 
the life you describe. If you could not be happy 
in my simple way, pray tell me so; do not leave 
me to learn by slow degrees what you must 
already know. ‘How can two walk together ex- 
cept they be agreed ?’ ” 

“ Very wisely said ! Let us agree to drop this 
painful discussion, and enjoy our walk. See, 
yonder is the very tree we used to call our castle. 
Do you recollect we read ‘ Robinson Crusoe ’ there 
one holiday, and pretended afterward that we 
were shipwrecked mariners, and had climbed our 
tree to be safe from savages and wild animals?” 

“ Those were happy times. I wish we might 
go back to them,” she said. 

“What! you to pinafores and short hair and 


42 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


* Kobinson Crusoe V Then I thought you the 
nicest girl in the world, as good a playmate as a 
boy ; but since then I have placed you on a pin- 
nacle — somewhere between man and the angels.” 

^^Alas! ^ poor, weak, frail human nature’ can 
not sustain itself on such unnatural heights. 
When you find that I am only a woman, witli 
no trace of angelhood, you will feel yourself 
cheated.” 

“That is not my fear; it is only that I may 
not be able to persuade you down to my level.” 

“ Then come up to mine.” 

“What! the pinnacle? You just said that it 
was unnatural.” 

“ But I am not there,; I am on a plain, earthly 
path — the path of present duties. I could not be 
content to sit down on the earth and amuse my- 
self with the flowers about me, any more than I 
could rest idly, like St. Simeon Stylites, on a 
pillar, for your adoration. Come and walk with 
me, Arthur; for the path of duty is always safe, 
and leads homeward.” 

“ Well, a home with you is all I want,” he 
said. 

“And my great longing, my earnest hope, is 
for the eternal home. Do not let us miss that. 
That loss, and the failure to do good, are the 
only real failures of life.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


43 


“ It seems so to you now ; but when you 
really enter life you will find that many other 
things have their relative value.” 

“Enter life! Why, I have been intensely 
alive ever since I can remember. This farm con- 
tents me ; and it is well, since so many millions 
of people must continue to exist outside of New 
York City. Think how small Manhattan Island 
is I Must she give tone and laws to the wide 
world? But for you, this peaceful life would 
hold all I ask.” 

“ It would not content me,” he said. “ I love 
the stir and excitement of city life, the close con- 
tests, the deep interest of business. A man can 
be content only when his powers are tasked to 
the utmost.” 

“ Then, you need your vacation. Try, now, 
to enjoy it. See how the setting sun glorifies our 
path, and it leads straight toward the golden and 
rosy clouds. Do you remember the eVening we 
tried, to reach the end of the rainbow for the pot 
of gold?” 

“ And got lost. You were very brave, I rec- 
ollect, although you were wet and hungry before 
they found us. Well, we have found the pot of 
gold, and in a far easier way.” 

A week passed in drives and horseback rides, 
to revisit old haunts, and each day was so full 


44 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


of pleasure that the subject of discussion was not 
resumed. Then one of Arthur’s schoolmates 
called, and took him home for a short visit. 
Afterward the two friends would visit Mr. Mont- 
gomery’s brother, whose farm lay about ten miles 
away from the railroad. 

A few days after Arthur left, a friend of Al- 
bert’s came to spend the day. As they sat on 
the porch after dinner, he said to Miss Ida : 

“ I got acquainted with your friend, Mr. Mont- 
gomery, at the fair.” 

“ Mr. Montgomery there !” she exclaimed. 

“O yes! He was there two days. You see, 
he bet on the brown horse, and it won. Father 
said he made several hundred dollars.” 

“ AVhy,” exclaimed Albert, “ I do n’t believe 
he’d do that! Father says betting is stealing; 
you just get something for nothing. He would n’t 
go to the fair. None of our family ever go, be- 
cause there is so much raffling and gambling 
there.” 

“ Some of the ministers went,” said the boy ; 
“I saw them.” 

Ida answered : 

^^Mr. Charlton says that these county fairs 
were once very useful to farmers, as they could 
compare their cattle and crops and learn the best 
ways of farming. Their families seldom visited 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


45 


or traveled then ; so they all went to the fair, 
met old friends, and compared ways of house- 
keeping. Probably these good ministers did not 
know how much harm these fairs now do. I know 
that free tickets of admission were sent to them 
all, and that our minister never goes.” 

When Arthur returned he brought his friend, 
with fishing-rods and tackle, for a day’s sport. 
Jim begged the privilege of carrying their lunch. 
This he was not strong enough to do, but was 
allowed to carry his own and go with them to 
dig bait. 

The gentlemen came back at tea-time with 
their strings of fish ; but Jim was not with them, 
and they knew nothing of him, except that he 
had waited on them nicely until after lunch, when 
he suddenly disappeared. 

Late in the evening he slipped into the shed, 
and was creeping up-stairs, when Mr. Charlton, 
who had been watching for him, brought him to 
the light. A glance showed that Jim had again 
fallen under the power of his enemy. His eyes 
were heavy and bloodshot, and his clothes, so neat 
and clean in the morning, showed that he had lain 
on the wet ground until the cool dew had restored 
his senses. Mr. Charlton gave the poor fellow a 
glass of water, and sent him at once to bed. 
Fortunately no one had seen Jim, and the kind 


46 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


father kept this new trouble to himself. The 
next morning he took the boy out to the barn, 
and directed him to tell his story, but to be care- 
ful to tell the exact truth, if he wished to be for- 
given and trusted again. 

After close questioning, these seemed to be 
the facts : The young gentlemen had a flat, 
leather-covered flask, from which they drank oc- 
casionally. After lunch, as it was warm, they took 
off their coats, hung them on a low tree, and lay 
down in the shade to rest. Jim had noticed that 
Mr. Montgomery kept the flask in the breast- 
pocket of his coat, and when the gentlemen 
seemed to be asleep he cautiously took a drink. 
It seemed like fire ; but he liked it, and twice 
went back for more. Then his head was dizzy, 
and he crept away under some bushes, and slept 
until the stars were shining ; and he had hard 
work to find his way home, guided only by the 
lights in the upper part of the house. 

There was more sorrow in this than Jim had 
brought; but Mr. Charlton tried to put it aside 
for the present duty of helping this poor waif. 

You remember your father, Jim?” he said. 

“O yes, sir; he used to beat me so.” 

“Well, you are going to be just like him.” 

“ I would n’t want to be that. I ’d rather be 
like Mr. Arthur.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


47 


Mr. Charlton winced. 

“ Jim, do you think I ’ll ever beat my family 
and smash things up, as your father did?” 

“Why, no, sir; you’re a gentleman.” 

“ But that would not prevent my doing it. 
Many men who are called gentlemen break up 
their homes and ruin their lives, as your father 
did. No ; it is because I do not love whisky, 
and I do love God. He tells us in the Bible 
that we must not drink wine or strong liquors, 
and that no drunkard can go to heaven. Jim, 
you must choose for yourself. Either you can 
drink whisky when you can get it, and be a 
drunkard like your father, or try to be good and 
go to heaven when you die, like your grand- 
mother. Stay here, and think about it awliile.” 

When Mr. Charlton entered the house he 
found, to his great relief, that whatever it was his 
duty to say to Miss Ida must be deferred. The 
young people were just starting on an excursion 
that would occupy the whole day. The next 
morning other guests came, and when they left 
in the afternoon Ida and Arthur accompaied them 
part of the way on horseback. As they entered 
the woods on their return they saw Jim hurrying 
toward the village. They stopped so as to watch 
him ; but as soon as he saw them he turned baek, 
and they rode rapidly on and intercepted him. 


48 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Where were you going, Jim?” asked the lady. 

“Just a piece along here.” But his face be- 
trayed him. 

Mr. Montgomery dismounted, and, taking hold 
of the boy, proceeded to examine his full pock- 
ets. Two eggs from each jacket pocket, four from 
each trowsers pocket — twelve eggs lay on the 
grass. 

“ What were you going to do with them, Jim?” 

“ Get some cigars,” said Jim, stoutly. “ Mr. 
Arthur smokes ’em. I wa’ n’t goin’ for whisky. 
That I drinked out o’ his‘ leather bottle made my 
head ache awful ; and Mr. Charlton says if I 
drink wine and whisky I can ’t get to heaven.” 

“ Satan reproving sin,” said the young man, 
sneeringly. “ You say you stole from me, and 
now we catch you stealing eggs. Thieves do n’t 
go to heaven.” 

“ Give the eggs to Margaret, and then go to 
your own room. I must tell Mr. Charlton of 
this,” said Miss Ida. 

They rode on in silence ; then Arthur said : 

“Little imp! I wonder Mr. Charlton keeps 
him.” 

“ Evidently it is not for his own ease and 
pleasure,” replied the lady. 

“ What hope can he have of reforming him ? 
He is too far gone.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


49 


“At teu!” exclaimed Miss Ida. “If he were 
twenty, now, one might despair.” 

“ But the material is hopeless.” 

“Not altogether. His father was a drunkard, 
but the mother was a decent, hard-working 
woman, and the grandmother unusually good.” 

“You seem to be interested only in the de- 
graded classes, Ida. AVhen I ask you to make 
me a home that shall be a refuge from tempta- 
tion, and where any small vices I have acquired 
would drop off from me, as dead leaves before 
the new growths of Spring, you hesitate. Am I 
less interesting or less hopeful material than Jim?” 

“ You differ widely in this : the ignorant child 
has never been taught what is right, and your 
parents led you in the right way for twenty years. 
I eould teach you nothing that you do not already 
know.” 

“ But your presence with me, your daily in- 
fluence. You would be my guardian angel.” 

“My influence will never be greater than it 
now is. If you will not turn away from all evil 
for the sake of winning me, what influence would 
I possess when won?” 

Miss Catharine met them at the door. 

“ How pale you look, Ida ! You have tired 
yourself out. Go and lie down until tea-time,” 
she said, lovingly. 


4 


60 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


“Where is Howard? I must see him first.” 

“ Down in the lower cornfield. It ’s too far 
for you to go, and he said he ’d be there all the 
afternoon.” 

“ Well, it ’s only about Jim. I sent him to 
his room. You might see that he has some plain 
supper; but he’d better stay there until I ’ve told 
Howard about him.” 

It was a cool evening, such as often follows a 
warm day in August, and the family gathered 
about the open wood-fire in the parlor ; but 
even its glow and sparkle did not enliven them. 
Ida and Mr. Charlton were absorbed in anxious 
thought, and the rest missed their usual cheerful- 
ness. During one of the long silences, Edward 
brought a book from the library table, where he 
had been reading. 

“ As you are not talking, may I road you a 
poem here? I want your opinion of it.” 

All assented gladly, and he read : 

“THE CROSS IN THE PLAN. 

“ I heard of a quaint old story 
In a far-away Eastern land, 

Of a mosque of Mohammed that rises 
Not far from the sloping strand. 

There, bowed in his chains, lay a captive. 

Who had come from a northern town. 

Where the sun that runs low in the Winter 
Shines cold on the frozen ground. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


61 


Rare powers he had at building ; 

For the forest, so grand and wild, 

He could shape again in the marble, — 

Trunk, foliage, arch, and aisle. 

They offered the slave his freedom. 

With a pass to the Northern land. 

If a mosque to Mohammed he builded, 

To tower above the strand. 

He planned in the stone right grandly, 

And he wrought for his life— that manl 
But they saw in the beautiful outline 
The cross he had dared to plan. 

They mockingly gave the ransom : 

Out of fetters his soul was sent, 

From the land of this fiery Summer; 

But death was the way he went. 

He left for us all a lesson : 

To whatever you put your hand. 

Bo it bearing, or doing, or waiting. 

The CROSS let it mark the plan. 

In patient endurance be Christ-like, 

In your trials and pains and loss, 

That all who look at your living 
May see in your life the Cross.” 

— Edward Bond. 

“ I wondered,” said Edward, after reading it, 
whether the mere shape of the cross could pay 
for losing his life ; and yet it was a brave thing 
to do.” 

“ It was the deed of a fanatic, an enthusiast, 
of course. It cost him his life, and accomplished 
nothing,” exclaimed Arthur. “ Had he been a 


52 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


practical man, he would have gone back to his 
friends and home.” 

“ Now, I think he was a remarkably practical 
man,” said Mr. Charlton. “ He knew that life 
is short, and that God would reward, through 
endless ages, this loving desire to honor him.” 

“ Then you would have a man live for the 
future instead of the present.” 

“ They who live most truly for the next world 
make the most of this,” said Mr. Charlton. 

They certainly do not make the most money.” 

I do not grant that making money is the 
great object of life ; but the Bible says, ^ The 
blessing of the Lord maketh rich, and he addeth 
no sorrow with it.’ The promises of needed food 
and constant care are to God’s people. You know 
how many Christian men have accumulated large 
fortunes, — Amos Lawrence, of Boston, who yet 
spent more time in doing good than in making 
money; and Johns Hopkins, who gave to the uni- 
versity he founded and that bears his name, and 
to other benevolent purposes, eight millions of 
dollars, all made on Christian principles.” 

But imagine a man attempting to make a 
large fortune in New York on the principle of 
the Golden Buie ! He would be laughed at for 
his want of common sense.” 

And yet it has been wisely said by some 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


53 


writer, ‘ “ Do unto others as ye would that they 
should do unto you,” may be called the religion 
of common sense, since it would promote the hap- 
piness of the right-doer, and should the world act 
upon the maxim, would soon bring the millen- 
nium for which humanity sighs/ But if you 
claim that money is the chief end, you differ with 
many wise men and philosophers, who live for 
higher aims. Hamilton says, ‘ The true object 
of life is to become perfect yourself.’ Most men, 
in seeking wealth, expect in that way to secure 
happiness ; but Burns says : 


‘ Happiness must have its seat 
And center — in the breast.’ ” 


54 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


V. 


S they parted for the night Ida asked Mr. 
Charlton, “ When did you see Jim ?” 

“ Not since this morning,” he replied. 
“ Is he lost ?” 


I “Not bodily,” she said; “but if you 
can spare the time, I would like to tell you of a 
discovery we made this afternoon.” 

But when they were quite alone all self-control 
forsook her, and she burst into a violent fit of 
weeping. Her brother waited a few moments, 
and then said tenderly : 

“Let me relieve you of part of the story. 
Jim confessed to me his drinking liquor from a 
flask in Arthur’s pocket the day they went fish- 
ing; but may not Foster have brought it? We 
have nothing against him but circumstantial evi- 
dence, and that rests only on the word of a boy 
who has never learned to speak the truth.” 

“ But his whole views of life are changed. 
He is perfectly fascinated with New York society 
and pleasures. He tries to persuade me that my 
influence might lead him aright. But how could 
it be so there, where temptations surround him. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


55 


and old associates would appeal as strongly to 
his pride as my love could appeal to his affection 
and desire for my happiness? And here, alas! 
Jim’s story is true, Arthur carries brandy and 
the aroma of cigars on his breath. Sometimes, 
when he is talking earnestly and comes near, I 
can hardly endure it. He is so changed — so 
changed !” 

Mr. Charlton could say only this : 

“ Under these circumstances he has no right 
to press for an immediate answer. You could 
not be happy to marry while in such doubt; and 
you have no right, without full evidence, to reject 
entirely the love he has professed for years. You 
are safer to insist upon waiting a year longer than 
to accept him now. If he really loves you, he 
will struggle to overcome the faults that separate 
you. If he will not try to make himself worth- 
ier for your sake, this will show you that these 
faults have become habits too strong for you to 
break. ^My heart has ached for you ever since I 
hoard Jim’s story ; but I would rather lay you in 
the grave, hard as that would be for me and for 
us all, than to see you the wife of a drunkard. 
But do not despair, dear sister ; take this reprieve, 
try to throw off this sorrow, and improve Ar- 
thur’s visit to learn all you can of his real self, 
apart from these habits that may be recent, and 


56 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


that he may be able to cast off entirely. We 
will pray for guidance, and I am sure it will be 
given you.” 

Ida’s trust in Providence and her hopeful na- 
ture conquered her distress. She thanked her 
brother warmly, and then told him about Jim 
and the eggs. 

“ Do n’t let that trouble you,” he said ; “ we 
had reason to expect it. I ’ll see him to-morrow 
morning. Now try to rest in the Fatherly care 
that watches the birds.” 

Soon, in childlike trust, all were sleeping. 

It Avas now one of the seasons of rest Avhich 
come more fully to the farmer thon to any busi- 
ness man, since no cares or anxious plans disturb 
it. The hay was gathered into the barn in June. 
It had been cut and raked into heaps by ma- 
chinery. Men riding on it accomplished in one 
day Avhat once required more than a Aveek of toil 
on foot. The large barn Avas croAvded Avith the 
fragrant results, while three or four huge stacks 
in the open field gave the cattle opportunity to 
eat at Avill, and saA’ed trouble to the farmer. 

It had been a year of increase, and noAV they 
could understand hoAv joyfully the Israelites of 
old obeyed God’s command to keep the feast 
called in Exodus the feast of ingathering, and in 
Leviticus the feast of tabernacles. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


57 


Gratitude for the harvest, for rest from toil, 
blended with the gladness of reunion, when from 
all parts of their land the people assembled at 
Jerusalem for a week of social pleasure, begun 
and closed by Sabbaths of thanksgiving to God 
in his temple, when large thank-offerings were 
made to the Giver of the harvest. Every Israel- 
ite at Jerusalem and in its vicinity had made 
full preparation for the feast. Their houses had 
been put in festal order and arranged for many 
guests. Bread had been baked in large quanti- 
ties ; the finest fruits had been arranged and the 
most delicate dishes prepared, and while every 
path and road was full of eager travelers, in their 
best attire, hastening to the beloved city, the men 
went out and gathered “ boughs of goodly trees, 
branches of palm-trees, and the boughs of thick 
trees and willows of the brook,” that they might 
fulfill the pleasant command, “ Ye shall dwell in 
booths seven days, and ye shall rejoice before the 
Lord your God seven days.” 

The night before this first Sabbath the city 
was full of happy faces, booths covered the house- 
tops and were spread in the courts; far as the 
eye cauld reach, the hills around Jerusalem were 
dotted with booths and bright with happy chil- 
dren. Everywhere old friends and the stranger 
were equally welcomed; for this was a feast unto 


68 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


the Lord, and the innocent gladness of his peo- 
ple is as acceptable to him wlio gave us our 
powers of enjoyment and the good in which we 
rejoice as is the solemn convocation and prayer. 

From this command down to St. Paul’s reit- 
erated “ Rejoice in the Lord,” the Bible is full 
of commands to rejoice ; yet in our blindness we 
imagine that we are honoring our God — the lov- 
ing, the merciful, the glorious God — when we 
walk sadly before him. 

In this spirit of grateful gladness Mr. Charl- 
ton’s family spent whole days in the woods, and 
made excursions to points of interest. One of 
these was to visit a large Indian mound several 
miles distant. 

They were curious to see whether the mound- 
builders had thrown them up laboriously, to use 
as burial-places, or whether the new theory was 
correct that they had been prepared as refuges 
from floods. Any structure of wood that they 
could have built would have been swept away 
by the mighty force of the waters; so those un- 
taught savages had been endowed with the sagac- 
ity of the beaver, and in preparing a permanent 
refuge for themselves had left a memorial of their 
energy and wisdom to tax the wisdom of the 
explorer. 

Many v/ere the days that seemed completely 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


59 


happy, and whose sunny memories remained to 
brighten sorrow and old age — pictures more dur- 
able and more capable of giving pleasure than 
any frescoes that art can paint. 

Mr, Charlton appreciated the opportunity of 
giving Jim higher pleasures and happier memo- 
ries than his dwarfed, sad life had known, and 
took pains that he should enter fully into the 
enjoyment of each day of pleasure. Some writer 
quotes from Charles Kingsley : Try, if you can, 
not to pass a day without either reading a beau- 
tiful poem, or hearing a sweet song, or seeing a 
beautiful picture and adds : “ It is more blessed 
to give than to receive, we would say. Still more 
should we try not to pass a day without doing 
some beautiful deed of love, 'without saying some 
sweet word of kindness, however quiet and unos- 
tentatious, or without letting others see the beau- 
tiful picture of a consistent character. So shall 
we be writing poems for God and painting pic- 
tures for eternity.” 

No allusion had again been made to any points 
of difference, and as the month of vacation drew 
near its close, Arthur entreated for a speedy mar- 
riage. Ida’s decision gave him pain, but did not 
excite his anger, as she had feared. During that 
month in a pure, real home, a Christian home, 
he had seen gradually the wide diflference between 


60 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


his own hopes and pleasures, his own motives 
and purposes, and those of Ida. Yet he honored 
and loved her more, and wished to be like her — 
wished, but failed to will and to resolve. “ The 
kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the 
violent take it by force.” ‘‘Whoso taketh not up 
his cross and followeth after me can not be my 
disciple.” 

Five years of yielding to worldliness and 
selfish pleasure had weakened alike his power of 
resistance and his desire to resist. He could not 
promise himself that he would ever become 
worthy of her, and this feeling gave his manner a 
new humility. He submitted only because it was 
her will, but prayed her to remember that all his 
hopes of happiness rested in her; that with her 
he would mount upward to a higher life, as with- 
out her, his good angel, allied temptations would 
be too strong for him. When she spoke of the 
loving' omnipotent Father, ever ready to hear 
and to save, she felt that he listened coldly, and 
her heart rested only in prayer for the help he 
was too proud and too undecided to seek. 

The Sabbath before he left, Mr. Charlton took 
him on a long, quiet stroll, and urged him, for 
his own sake and by the love they bore him, to 
consecrate his life to the holy purposes for which 
it was given. He told him that daily prayer 


A BAILHOAD WAIF. 


61 


would be offered for him, but that no prayer 
would avail unless he himself desired it. God 
forces no man into his kingdom ; only voluntary 
service is acceptable to him who freely gave his 
life for us. 

Never had Arthur seemed so near the right 
path, and they parted with loving hopes of hap- 
pier meeting. 

September came, with its work af preparing 
the ground and sowing the Winter wheat. It 
seemed a strange thing to coax upward the deli- 
cate green blades, only to meet the Winter snow ; 
but it shelters them from frost, and leaves them 
to welcome, with vivid coloring, the Spring sun- 
shine. The frost that checked their upward 
growth gave them deep and strong rooting ; the 
real and necessary growth had been out of sight, 
and would never have been attained in light and 
heat. The good seed of the kingdom has often 
flourished best under adversity and opposition, 
though in our weak faith we shrink from con- 
flict, and would have it the Church acquiescent 
rather than the Church militant. 

In the Autumn came the merry time of gath- 
ering in fruit — merrier to the gatherers than to 
those who prepared part of it for Winter use. 
The Winter apples were stored away for their 
own eating, to be a constant care in turning and 


62 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


assorting, as decay in one atfects all near it, as 
surely as bad habits in one pupil will corrupt a 
school. 

Mr. Charlton would not have dared to take 
Jim into his family had his children been young 
and untrained. Here was his opportunity for 
service — that all the family influence would be 
for good. AYas not this a part of what Christ 
intended when he said to his people, “Ye shine 
as lights in the world, holding forth the word of 
life?’^ AYill the hidden taper continue to burn? 
Will the lamp whose rays guide no wanderer, 
lighten no darkness, be still fed with oil ? 

With the first frost Edward and Albert left 
their books, and, armed with sickles, joined their 
father and his men in cutting down the tall corn. 
This is left until frost, as it still grows and ma- 
tures; but then it must be put under shelter to 
harden. They placed the severed stalks together 
like an Indian wigwam, but closer at the base, 
taking care that all the ears should be inside the 
stack, and bound them together strongly at the 
top. Thus secured, the whole can be left until 
it is convenient to husk and store it in the large 
corn-cribs — buildings placed on posts, so that 
mice and squirrels can not enter them. In New 
England, in primitive times, the corn was gath- 
ered into the barn, and the young people had a 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


63 


husking frolic, in which they took sides, as in a 
spelling-match. But though Mr. Charlton’s barn 
was more than twice the size of his house, it could 
not have held, in addition to his hay, the large 
corn-crop, such as the stony soil of New England 
never produces. 

They raked up the dead leaves around the 
house, and used them for bedding cattle ; but the 
crisp, frosty air gave the workers a fullness of 
life that Summer had laeked. The lads took up 
their studies with new interest ; bright fires 
glowed steadily on the open hearths, and the 
sun’s rays came freely through the large windows. 
Even Mrs. Gray enjoyed a short walk, that made 
the home-coming delightful. Young people often 
dread old age — the Winter of life, it is called — 
and yet to many it is their happiest time, full of 
gathered treasures of knowledge, of memories 
of a well-spent life, and of clear hopes of the 
brighter, more satisfying life beyond. 

Dear young people, let me urge you so to use 
those valuable servants, your bodies, that they 
shall be able to continue to serve you while life 
lasts, that no decaying powers, no sharp pains 
may remind you bitterly of past carelessness — 
possibly, of past sin. 

The large wood-house was already nearly full 
of well-seasoned wood ; but, now that other work 


64 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


was over, Mr. Charlton selected and marked all 
decaying or worthless trees and those that crowded 
the valuable timber, and watched while the wood- 
choppers felled them. To no one could he trust 
the care of his beloved and valuable woods. But 
that once done, they could be left to split and 
stack them for fuel, as they were paid by actual 
measure of their piled-up work. Now Mr. Charl- 
ton had leisure to visit the members of the Church 
in which he was an officer, to examine into any 
peculiar cases that might be laid before him, to 
minister to any sick, and especially to consider 
who among the poor of the district might safely 
be supplied with needed comforts, and who so 
preferred a life of indolent dependence that it 
would have done them harm to give any thing 
but work. 

Hannibal and the team went on many errands 
of mercy. The nicely arranged piles of wood by 
the roadside and the abundance of farm comforts 
yielded their tithe to the needy and helpless. It 
was a new and great pleasure to Jim to go with 
him, and see the joy the timely gifts brought. 

Thanksgiving passed, with its joyous service 
and varied home enjoyments. Already prepara- 
tions for Christmas were begun. In their visits 
to the poor and the sick the ladies noticed the 
most pressing wants and the shape in which 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


65 


cheering would best come. A part of Ida’s 
memoranda would have read thus : 

“ For old Peter — a set of red flannel shirts. 

“ For Mrs. Whiting — a lithograph of ‘ The 
Good Shepherd,’ to be hung at the foot of her 
bed Christmas eve, after she is asleep. 

“For Johnny Brown — ^Mother Goose.’ 

“ For Sandy — a coarse-print Bible. 

“For Benny Snow — a nice pair of crutches. 

“ For Annie Clark — a paint-box and Bristol 
board.” 

All were busy, and each had some secret. The 
day before Christmas Grace and Ida took the 
ponies and large sleigh, the boys carried out and 
stowed away parcels and baskets, and yet they 
came back in an hour or two to have it refilled. 
The baskets contained Mrs. Charlton’s donation — 
a Christmas dinner for each deserving poor per- 
son in the village, and delicacies for each invalid. 

“No use in your trying to play Santa Claus 
without bells,” remonstrated Albert; “each rein- 
deer wears a string.” 

But they had a motive in directing that the 
bells should not be put on. 

Christmas eve the elders were up late, and the 
parlor door was found locked in the morning. It 
was always Mr. Charlton’s custom to begin the 
day with the story of the first Christmas. Di- 
5 


66 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


rectly after the excellent breakfast of broiled 
chicken, muffins, and fruit, the servants took their 
seats in the dining-room, and Mr. Charlton first 
read the most joyful prophecies of the Prince and 
Savior who should redeem the world ; then a part 
of the second chapter of St. Luke, showing the 
lowly form in which he assumed our nature. 
Then all kneeled, and in a few earnest words he 
thanked our Father for this first Christmas gift, 
this best gift to man. He prayed that in grati- 
tude they might present their souls and bodies to 
him, a reasonable service; that they might so 
live that in heaven they should see Christ him- 
self on his throne, wearing a body like ours, yet 
glorified, and there be able to thank him as they 
ought. 

After the servants had breakfasted, the parlor 
door was thrown open, and all were summoned 
by a bell. No one was ever omitted in the gifts, 
and each one received some long-wished-for arti- 
cle, and wondered how the wish had been known. 

There was one drawback to Ida’s pleasure — 
one iindesired gift — a fine solitaire diamond ring 
from Mr. Montgomery. His card bore only the 
request that she would wear it; but to her it 
seemed an engagement-ring, and she could not 
put it on. 

The sadness with which she showed it to IVIr 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


67 


Charlton — so unnatural for such a gift — made him 
rack his brain to devise some way of learning 
the exact truth about Arthur, that Ida’s heart 
might not still be tossed in uncertainty. 


G8 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


VI. 


£1uT a way was already being prepared to 
r / relieve .Ida’s uncertainty. For two years 
Lizzie Warrener was her room-mate at 
r Wesleyan College; she spent a vacation 
^ then at Mr. Charlton’s, and they all loved 
her for her simplicity and quiet goodness. Di- 
rectly after tlie girls were graduated Mr. War- 
rener removed with his family to New York, and 
the friends had not since met. When their pas- 
tor left in August, Lucy’s brother had taken the 
place. 

Paul Warrener had been a successful law- 
yer until a strong sense of duty drove him into 
the ministry ; so, although thirty years of age, 
he had just finished his course in a theological 
seminary, and this was his first charge. His 
active life among men had been a great prep- 
aration for his work ; all the new questions of 
the day interested him, and the truth he held 
had been thoroughly proved and tested with all 
the ability and acumen that his legal training 
had given him. We sometimes wonder at the 
number of successful lawyers who have entered 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


69 


the ministry and who always bring to it unusual 
earnestness and consecration. 

Is it that having learned to investigate and 
discover truth, they have found the highest to 
be contained in the Gospel ? and that the strong- 
est demand it makes upon those who accept it 
is — next to holiness of heart and life — obedience 
to our Savior’s last command — '^Go ye into all 
the world and preach the Gospel to every 
creature ?” 

Benevolent work and practical questions of 
duty were full of interest to the young pastor. 
They enjoyed the freshness and earnestness of 
his sermons; and his desire to do good drew 
them together in the bonds of a common inter- 
est. The walk to the Charlton farm was a plea- 
ant relaxation to the student; he found there a 
delightful home, while Mr. Charlton’s intimate 
knowledge of the people of his charge and of 
tlieir special spiritual needs, was a great help to 
Mr. Warrener. 

His praises of the family awakened the slum- 
bering friendship, and Lucy wrote to Ida urging 
her to visit her at once and stay as long as pos- 
sible. Here was the very opportunity that Mr. 
Charlton could have wished, and he advised Ida 
to accept it for any time when she could be ready. 
He would go with her and take Grace for lier 


70 A RAILROAD WAIF. 

first sight of New York; they would stay only 
for a week or two, but some escort could easily 
be found as far as Cincinnati when Ida chose to 
return. It was decided that each should buy a 
street dress and wrap as soon as possible after 
reaching New York, and the numerous trifles — 
bonnets, gloves, etc. — that require so little atten- 
tion in the country and assume such importance 
in city life : so they started fresh on their jour- 
ney, instead of being jaded with sewing and 
shopping, ready to enjoy all its incidents and 
scenery, and reached New York with little 
fatigue. 

Neither Ida nor Grace had seen that crowded 
Babel, and the ever-packed streets, the ever-full 
sidewalks were to them a greater wonder than 
the elevated railways or the miles of uniformly 
high buildings. Lucy was watching for them, 
and greeted them warmly; she would not allow 
Grace to go to a hotel with her father, claiming 
that as they had shopping to do they should be 
together, and that this would give him freedom 
to visit any place that would not interest the 
girls. 

But Mr. Charlton’s great interest then was in 
the errand that had brought him there. After 
an early breakfast he visited the publishing house 
of Harper & Brothers, and at ten o’clock — late 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


71 


enough he thought for even a New York busi- 
ness man to be in his office — went to the house 
of Montgomery & Co. 

His inquiries for Arthur were referred to a 
head clerk, a gray-haired, kindly man, who evi- 
dently regretted to say that Arthur had not been 
at the store since New-Year’s day. 

A sad day for New York, sir ; jt seems to 
demoralize every body for a week at least.” 

^^Not- you, I see,” replied Mr. Charlton, 
pleasantly. 

“No, I am long past that, — in fact I have 
found something better.” 

“And Arthur Montgomery has not?” said 
Mr. Charlton, involuntarily. The other shook 
his head. 

“ As you will be here for so short a time, per- 
haps you would prefer seeing him at his hotel;” 
and he gave the address. 

Mr. Charlton took a passing stage and soon 
reached it, but on the way he made a sudden re- 
solve ; he would learn the truth at any cost of 
mere etiquette; he would go at once to Arllmr’s 
room. Summoning a waiter, he gave him his 
card for Mr. Montgomery, and followed him to 
the door, to be ready to enter as soon as the card 
should be presented. He heard strange, muttered 
sounds, and when the waiter came out, looking 


72 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


doubtful what course to pursue, entered the room 
at once. 

Although it was now nearly noon, Arthur lay 
on the bed in a drunken stupor; he was in the 
dress he had worn the night previous, the faded 
button-hole bouquet still on his coat. His face 
was hot and flushed, his eyes bloodshot, and 
the room was foul with the odor of brandy and 
cigars. 

Mr. Charlton was a brave man, but this sight 
unnerved him, and his tears flowed unconsciously 
as he thought of the bright, happy boy, of the 
young man full of promise, now so fearfully 
wrecked ! 

The new, staunch barque may safely pass 
through heavy seas and encounter opposing 
winds ; but when, by abuse and neglect, its seams 
have warped and its rudder is lost, there is no 
more safe sailing, no hope of reaching any de- 
sired port. 

There is but one other sin — still viler and 
more brutal — that so degrades the moral nature, 
ruins the mental powers, destroys all will-force 
and all self-control, and diseases the whole body, 
as does drunkenness. 

Nor is the beginning of this evil in the 
thronged saloons, in the hotel wines and bran- 
dies; it does not at once fasten its mighty chains 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


73 


and drag its unwilling captive to destruction. 
No ! for the alarmed victim would resist to death, 
would summon all humanity to aid him in this 
righteous crusade; to rescue man made in the 
image of God ; man, the temple of the Holy 
Spirit, from such foul pollution. No, the be- 
ginning of this deadly evil lies in the small, daily 
dose prescribed by the physician, in the few 
spoonfuls taken in depression, to nerve one for 
some effort ; alas ! often in the glass of wine of- 
fered and even urged upon the innocent victim, 
in a home that should have been a refuge from 
the world’s temptations ! 

Mr. Charlton lowered the windows a few 
inches, bathed the fevered head, loosened the 
cravat and vest, and sat down to watch his Avak- 
ing. Constantly he changed the wet towels on 
his head, and in about an hour was rewarded by 
the poor fellow’s rousing himself enough to aid 
in undressing and getting into bed. To offers 
of coffee or food he shook his head, then closed 
his eyes and fell again into a heavy, but now 
more quiet, sleep. Mr. Charlton looked around 
for some remedy ; a brandy bottle with a glass 
beside it stood on the center-table, a stand of 
cigars, several packs of cards, and a pile of 
French novels ; but no book that he would read, 
and no Bible within sight. 


74 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Evidently the sleep would be a long one; he 
shut out the sunlight that was beginning to shine 
into the sleeper’s eyes, laid his card, with hotel 
address, on the table, and went out again on the 
street. 

But he saw none of the crowds he met, no 
sight could divert him from this heavy sorrow, 
and he went back to his room and lay down to 
rest. Often had he ridden all day on the jolting 
farm machinery that his men could not manage, 
hands and feet constantly busy in the work, 
under the burning sun of midsummer. He had 
thought this hard, but this morning had ex- 
hausted him as those days of severe toil never 
did. There seemed to him no hope for Arthur, 
and for Ida’s love there was certainly no hope; 
the risk was too fearful ! 

“ O, wretched woman that I am ! who shall 
deliver me from this body of death ?” The cry 
goes up constantly from women all over our 
broad land, from elegant homes as well as hovels, 
and love and a desire to keep her marriage vow, 
still bind the wife to her revolting duties — love 
for the soul that she loved in its purity and for 
her husband’s long-dead love. 

No, Ida must not be so sacrificed ; she must 
know the whole truth, and the separation must 
be final. But how could he tell it? She and 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


75 


Grace had come on a pleasure-trip, they needed 
the recreation, they would need all pleasant mem- 
ories they could gather to sustain them under this 
blow when it should fall. Surely he had been 
guided that morning in the discovery of the 
truth, and now he would wait until the way 
seemed open to tell it, until some necessity for 
it arose. He would control himself, too ; they 
should not be depressed by his manner. 

He rested, took an early dinner, and went 
back to Arthur’s room. He found him as he had 
feared, in a high fever, and sent at once for one 
of the proprietors of the house. The gentleman 
was well acquainted with Arthur, and took up the 
case with interest ; he sent for a febrifuge, which 
he administered, and volunteered to have an ex- 
perienced, elderly waiter watch him, and in case 
of danger go at once for a doctor. 

Relieved of this care Mr. Charlton tried to 
interest himselt in his surroundings, and arrived 
at Mr. Warrener’s house ready to respond to the 
joyful greeting of the girls, and to listen to the in- 
cidents and look at the results of their day’s shop- 
ping. Lucy’s knowledge of styles and places had 
made this satisfactory, and he was glad to praise 
and admire heartily their artistic taste. 

Then when ]\Ir. Warrener came in he was 
obliged to sit down to another dinner, prolonged 


76 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


with its changes of courses; until, when Lucy 
asked what entertainment they would like for 
the evening, the wearied farmer thought long- 
ingly of his bed. 

“ Do n’t let us keep you at home, Lucy,” said 
Ida ; “ brother will entertain us for awhile, and 
we ’ll go early to bed. The crowds and excitement 
have left us fit for nothing else ; we shall be- 
come used to them in time.” 

Indeed you had best go, if you are not too 
fatigued,” added Grace. “ If you stay, we shall 
be tempted to talk late, and I can scarcely keep 
my eyes open.” 

Thus urged, Lucy and her father went to ful- 
fill an engagement. As soon as they were gone 
Mr. Charlton said, “ I saw Arthur to-day, but he 
is not well, and can ’t be here to-night. I will 
call on him again in the morning; he will probably 
be up then,” and Ida suspected nothing. He found 
Arthur better next morning, and was glad he had 
not alarmed Ida with his fears. 

The poor fellow was too weak to rise, full of 
pain and deeply depressed. He had not even 
taken any food. Mr. Charlton rang for his 
breakfast, and read from the morning paper he 
had brought items of interest that by diverting 
Arthur’s mind from himself enabled him to take 
some of the fragrant coffee and delicate broiled 


A JtAILJiOAD WAIF. 


77 


chicken ; but he ate entirely without appetite, as 
one performs a painful duty. 

It was even more painful to his friend to 
watch him, to see that, although not yet twenty- 
six, all the elasticity and joy of youth had left 
him, that his mind seemed to have failed faster 
than the body under his dissipation. He did not 
mention having been with him the day before, he 
felt that the invalid was too weak to bear the 
pain of knowing that Mr. Charlton had seen him 
in his humiliation ; he took up his card unob- 
served and when he went, said : 

“I shall be in town for a week aud will leave 
you my address; if you arc worse or need me, 
do n’t hesitate to send.” 

He did not even dare tell him that Ida and 
Grace were with him, any sudden emotion might 
bring back the fever; but Mr. Charlton had no 
desire to tell him ; he felt that a meeting would 
torture them unnecessarily as it could accomplish 
nothing — Arthur would only repeat promises of 
reformation, honestly made, but utterly out of 
his power to keep. 

St. Paul says : “ He that committeth sin is 
the servant of sin.” Had Arthur given his youth 
to God he would have gained the fulfillment of 
the promise: “Ye shall know the truth, and the 
truth shall make you free.” 


78 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


vii 

CHARLTON had spent a year in New 
York twenty years before, and was iuter- 
ested in watching the great changes that 
y had been made. He took the girls to the 
I foot of Wall Street in the Madison Ave- 
nue stage, and they made long voyages to foreign 
lands, watching the weather-beaten vessels just 
returned and the freshly painted ones with flying 
streamers, — To Havre ; To Hong Kong ; To the 
Sandwich Islands; To Pernambuco. 

They crossed the bay to Staten Island, and 
saw the forts and the handsome grounds of pri- 
vate residences. Even in Winter Central Park 
was lovely, and their favorite resting-place after 
a morning among picture-galleries or libraries or 
book-stores ; these last furnished valuable pres- 
ents for Edward and Albert, while Grace selected 
stores of table-linen for her mother, and for Mrs, 
Gray that delightful present for an invalid, a pair 
of California blankets; so desirable for their 
combined lightness and warmth, when weakness 
makes ordinary bedding oppressive. 

Some useful gift was selected for each one. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


79 


and the new trunk that Grace had long desired 
was packed with them — every arrangement made 
for their departure, and still Mr. Charlton had 
not told Ida! Then he took her to the Park 
for a last visit, and there — where nature charms 
away the bitterness of grief — he told her the 
whole, sad story. 

It was hard at first to convince her that Ar- 
thur’s case could be already hopeless; then harder 
still to witness her sorrow for him, her old play- 
mate. Evidently she had never rested in the 
hope of a life spent with him; her anxiety had 
been to help and save him, her feeling for him 
rather that of a sister for a younger brother than 
the esteem and confidence with which a woman 
of so decided a character should be able to regard 
a future husband. 

How can a woman promise to honor and obey 
a man who is not, mentally and spiritually, her 
superior? Kespect, confidence, esteem, and love 
can not be forced ; it is not in the power of the 
wife to give them at will; they must be the di- 
rect result of unselfish love, of tested character 
in the recipient. These thoughts somewhat re- 
lieved the stress of Mr. Charlton’s pain as he sat 
by Ida and saw her suffer. Presently he said: 

“ Yes, it is a tomb ; we must bury here the 
dead past, and such burials are always painful. 


80 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


But leave here all memories, all mementos, all 
hopes connected with this trial, lay them in care- 
fully and cover them finally. Heap over the 
mound present duties, and hopes of a future that 
shall more than compensate for this sorrow ; so 
shall thoughts of it lead you to ‘ look upward, 
and not down ; look forward, and not back.^ 

“ It is an old fable, you know, that amber 
came from tears; some life-fragrance will spring 
from this grief, dear sister, some strength for 
work. You are young, and the best of your life 
still lies before you ; rise up to meet it. Since 
you are not in any way to blame for this sor- 
row, leave it behind you. We will pray for Ar- 
thur; we can do no more. When we go back to 
Mr. Warrener’s write him a kind, but short, let- 
ter — a decided farewell. I will give it with the 
diamond ring, and tell him how I found him ; he 
will then understand that your answer is final, 
I will not tell him that you arc in town, nor 
must you, as he would insist, on seeing you ; he 
is not likely to cross your path in such a crowd.” 

“ O, brother, I must go home with you ; how 
could I enjoy New York now, how could I hide 
my pain ?” 

‘‘Do not hide it as a friend; oppose it, banish 
it as an enemy. Here you will have help in the 
contest. They know nothing of Arthur, so you 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


81 


will not be tempted to speak of him, and your 
mind will be diverted from itself. I hope to see 
you come back the light of our home.” 

Ida shook her head, but she acted on Mr.. 
Charlton’s advice, and he never spoke to her of 
the interview with Arthur. He realized that life 
is too short and too sacred to service to be wasted 
in hopeless regrets. 

Home comforts and quiet seemed delightful to 
the travelers after the two weeks of constant ex- 
citement; but a few days after their return Mr. 
Charlton took Grace and the lads apart and told 
them of his visits to Arthur, without connecting 
Ida in any way with his story ; he felt it right 
that they should understand something of the 
strength of this temptation and be prej)ared to 
watch against its approaches. 

“ Regard it as a deadly enemy,” he said ; 
never touch in any shape what may give you a 
taste for liquors, not even a cigar. As in the 
old fable of the camel, it may take from you all 
that is dear, if you give it the smallest chance. 

“ Take one of the Bible descriptions of it, 

* Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and 
whosoever is deceived thereby is' not wise.’ It 
does not say whoso is overcome thereby, but 
whosoever is so ignorant of its real character as 
to receive it as a friend. It is the first cigar, the 
G 


82 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


first glass of wine that works the ruin. Never 
touch either and you are safe. 

‘‘Gracie, my darling, never ask me to give you 
to a man who uses wine or tobacco, however mod- 
erately. You might think that your happiness 
rested in acceptance; it could be secured only 
by rejecting a love that could prefer a mere sen- 
sual pleasure to your good. 

“ The man who can take a refined, sensitive 
woman to share his life, and yet retain habits 
that will be full of discomfort to her, if not of 
positive misery, shows a weakness, a self-indul- 
gence and selfishness of character that utterly 
unfit him to be a true husband. 

My dear boys you know that the Bible 
standard is, “ Husbands love your wives, even as 
Christ loved the Church and gave himself for it, 
gave up, not an evil habit, but his life ; such love 
makes the only true marriage.” 

For some time they were silent, pondering 
over the father’s words, then Albert said ; 

“ May I read you ^ The Drunkard’s Will ?’ I 
cut it out of a paper the other day.” 

Producing it from that universal storehouse, a 
boy’s pocket, he read : 

“‘I, , beginning to be enfeebled in 

body and mind, and having long continued in 
that course of intemperance from which I have 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


83 


not resolution and strength to de])art, do make 
and publish this my last Will and Testament. 
Having been made in the image of my Creator, 
capable of rational enjoyment and sound reason- 
ing and judgment; of imparting happiness to 
others, and of promoting the glory of God, and 
knowing my accountability, yet such is my fond- 
ness for sensual gratification, and my utter ina- 
bility to resist temptation, that I have given 
myself to intemperance and its associate vices, 
and make the following bequests : My property 
I give to the rumseller. My reputation, already 
tottering on a sandy foundation, I give to de- 
struetion. To my beloved wife, who has cheered, 
comforted, and helped me thus far through life, 
I give shame, poverty, sorrow, and a broken 
heart. To each of my innocent children, I be- 
queath my example, an inheritance of shame and 
poverty. 

‘ Finally, I give my body to disease, pain, 
and early dissolution, my mind to distraction, 
and my soul — that can never die — to the disposal 
of that God whose commands I have broken, 
and who has warned me by his Word, that no 
drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God.’ ” 

Before the end of the month Ida returned. 

“ I grew restless,” she said ; “ there was noth- 
ing for me to do but enjoy myself, and I can ’t 


84 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


do that in idleness. I must have my regular 
work.” 

She took at once her usual duties, but even 
they did not seem sufficient, and she looked 
around for new openings. She was feverishly 
trying to escape from self, and she found a duty 
that no one else could see. 

A young widow had been left destitute, to 
earn her own support and that of a little daugh- 
ter; only memories of shame and pain remained 
of the brief married life in which she hoped to 
reform the man she loved, as hopeless a task as 
trying to stem with a straw, — Niagara, placid 
above the rapids. How shall she now support 
herself and her child, broken as she is in health 
and spirit? Two young girls had watched by 
the bedside of their diseased, and at times demo- 
niac, father, tormenting them for the whisky they 
dared not give, until when he sank into the grave, 
cursing them, all the elasticity and strength of 
youth were gone, sacrificed to their father’s vice. 
Every thing had been sold to supply their tyrant’s 
wants, except the bed on which he lay, the table 
at his bedside, a single chair, and the few value- 
less kitchen utensils needed to prepare his meals. 
He was buried at the expense of the county, but 
the daughters had been brought up by a good 
mother, and wanted work, not charity ; where 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


85 


shall they find work that will not be beyond 
their exhausted strength? 

Ida knew them well and studied out the prob- 
lem. She came to Mr. Charlton one day with its 
solution. 

“ Brother, would you mind if I opened dress- 
making rooms in the village?” 

“ You, Ida ! and why ? what do you want 
that I can not, will not, supply you?” 

“Certainly nothing whatever! but if I opened 
them I could teach Mrs. Brown and Kate and 
Janey Simpson to support themselves. I would 
rent a small house that they could all live in and 
where they could give me dinner ; they could 
put their little furniture into it, and I would sup- 
ply what else was needed. Two front rooms I 
would fit up nicely but cheaply for dress-making. 
Mrs. Brown has a good sewing-machine. I would 
solicit custom myself and work with them until 
my outlay was paid and they had learned the 
business well enough, not only to make and fit 
dresses nicely, but to keep their books and^ 
make their income cover expenses. You know 
them ; do n’t you think that they deserve help, 
and may develop the qualities that command 
success ?” 

“ Both, my dear girl ; but for you to assume 
such a burden !” 


86 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Honest and honorable work, and honored 
too by many noble women who have toiled at it 
for others.” 

“Speak to your sisters, my dear, and if they 
approve how can I disapprove? Your motive 
deserves success.” 

“ Thank you, and success if it comes will not 
be at the expense of any one. The village peo- 
ple have long wished for a good dress-maker, as 
they have generally been compelled to have their 
dresses made in Cincinnati at heavy expense, as 
your family might have done, sir, but for the 
fact that you had a first-class artiste in the house,” 
and she made him a demure courtesy. 

“ You will succeed, I am sure,” said Mr. 
Charlton ; “ so sure that I will be glad to give 
you my note for one hundred dollars, without 
interest or security, toward carrying out your 
plan ; let me give it you now.” 

“You are very kind, and if necessary I will 
call on you, but just now my own credit is good,” 
and she hurried off to consult her sisters, eager 
to carry out the project at once. 

A week had not passed before Ida drove the 
ponies while Grace distributed written circulars 
at every respectable house in the village; they 
were gotten up with some attempt at display, 
and the family had united in copying them. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


87 


“ HEW DRESS-MAKING ROOMS. 

“ Miss Ida Rochester and Mrs. Emily Brown have 
opened rooms for dress-making, next door to the Presby- 
terian church on Summit Street. They have the latest 
New York styles, and solicit your custom.” 

Great was the wonder over this innocent look^ 
ing sheet of note paper — a very apple of discord 
among the gossips. 

^^Yes, I knew those Charltons were spending 
too much money; a trip to New York for ’em 
all; and see the finery the girls brought home! 
I ’d a great mind to get up and go out last Sun- 
day ; I ’d no good of the sermon at all with those 
new bonnets before me, and such cloaks! wraps 
they call ’em. I’d give my Arabella Louisa a 
rap if she tried to wear such a thing.” , 

“AVell, now, I thought I’d like jest such a 
fixin’ made out o’ that old cloth cloak I ’vc had 
lyin’ by, dear knows how long! It would jest 
be a good joke to wear my old cloak made like 
their ’n; I’d be willin’ to pay somethin’ for the 
priv’lege.” 

’^Poor Ida!” said a sentimental young mar- 
ried woman, “ her Arthur has forsaken her. I 
feared it would be so ! The day I spent there last 
Summer I noticed that he showed her no lover- 
like attentions, and she seemed so hopeless that 
she did not even attempt to draw him to her 


88 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


side, as young girls do iiuconscioiisly. He showed 
no more interest in her than he did in Grace ; 
not once did he clasp her hand or put his arm 
around her. I could not have endured it ! The 
fascinations of New York ladies have won him 
from her; repeatedly have I told her that her 
manner was too cold to satisfy true love. And 
now she is degraded to a menial capacity ! I 
must go to her and assure her of my tenderest 
sympathy.” 

What a shame for Mr. Charlton to treat his 
wife’s sister so !” said a loud-voiced woman who 
had vainly tried to be intimate with the Charl- 
ton family. “ The idea of sending her out to 
earn her own living! with his big farm and all 
that land wasted in woods 1 he could have sup- 
ported her and not felt it. I do hate stingy 
folks.” 

“Now I think that Mrs. Charlton has done 
it,” said an affected woman, whose flirtations 
mortified her husband and were the terror of 
half the wives in the neighborhood. “You may 
rest assured that she did n’t like that trip to New 
York Muthout her; they might, at least, have 
offered to take her. I questioned Edward about 
her, and learned that they had not even thought 
about it, then I knew just how the land lay. I 
never cowld endure such neglect, such preference 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


89 


of another’s happiness to mine. No ! Mrs. Charl- 
ton did what any self-respecting woman would 
have done, she expelled the serpent from her 
Eden !” 

“ Well, she was mighty bad oif for company, 
or she wouldn’t have picked up that dead alive 
Emily Brown,” said her husband, trying to con- 
sole himself for trouble at home by picking flaws 
abroad. 

“ O, she knew she ’d make a good drudge ; the 
woman ’s so broken down she would n’t dare say 
her soul’s her own.” 

“Well, of all things, I hate deceit! there she 
pretended she was goin’ to see the minister’s 
family. I do n’t suppose she went nigh ’em; she’s 
just been picking up New York styles. Well 
she’s done for herself, no use settin’ her cap for 
the minister now; with them grand ways of his 
he would n’t look at her, I ’ll be bound.” 

“ If I can scare up money for a dress, I ’m 
going ; it will be fun to see that minx taking my 
orders.” 

“ Well now, I ’m real sorry,” said a grand- 
mother, “ I never saw the least bit of an air about 
her, and she’s that good to poor, sick people! 
I ’ve seen her wait on ’em as if they were ladies, 
and she looking as pretty as a pictur’. I used 
to wonder that she wa’ n’t a bit proud.” 


90 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Many noble hearts in the village guessed at 
once her motive, and when the tormentors ap- 
peared they found with Ida a body-guard of de- 
voted friends, before whom they dared offer no 
insult. It was not long until she told these 
friends her real reason for undertaking the work, 
with a request that they would keep it a secret 
among themselves. So the gossips, undisturbed, 
continued to enjoy their misapprehensions. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


91 


^ DiV always found the rooms clean and the 
Jf women at work. Mrs. Brown was a careful 
though not rapid machinist, and as the sew- 
Y ing-machine was her own, she understood it 
fully and needed no direction; Janey was neat 
and careful with hand-sewing, but showed no 
talent for cutting and fitting; Kate had taste and 
would have fitted well had she not been too care- 
less in preparing her work. 

Ida had bought calico dresses for them and 
insisted that each one should make her own, only 
asking help for any fitting she could not do alone; 
but, watching the work as she did, she soon found 
that she must give even these plain dresses her 
constant supervision if she would not have them 
discredit her “ New York styles.” So she laid 
aside two of them, and directed her three assist- 
ants to watch her as she measured her pattern on 
Mrs. Brown, adapting it to her figure, laid it 
straight on the goods, marked each seam with a 
pointed crayon, and then took them up with the 
utmost care, and trying on repeatedly, until the 
fit was perfect. The second she prepared in the 


92 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


same careful way before them; the third she left 
to them, and then spent more time afterward, 
trying to make it decent, than she had taken for 
either of the others. She began to appreciate the 
advantages of her education, that, beginning 
almost at babyhood, had so cultivated every sense 
and faculty as not merely to double its value, but 
^to give it a trustworthiness that untrained senses 
do not possess. 

As Faith Gartney said, No wonder that a 
girl who never studied geometry can ’t lay the 
table-cloth straight !” 

No amount of cramming can ever compensate 
for the want of this training of eye and ear, of 
hand and foot, of clear articulation, of sweet, 
modulated tones. No knowledge of languages, 
of mathematics, of philosophy, or even of the 
ologies,” can give the self-possession and useful- 
ness that careful and thorough physical training 
secures. It forms a noble and substantial found- 
ation for any structure that may be built upon it ; 
without it we have often seen men of erudition 
and genius hanging — like Mohammed’s coffin, — 
“ ’twixt heaven and earth.” 

Next to a home and parents, a well-managed 
kindergarten can supply this want; only let us 
see that the kindergarten is conducted on the 
American and not on the German system, where 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


93 


the Bible and the knovveledge of God are ignored, 
since “ the fear of the Lord is the beginning of 
wisdom.” 

But all of Ida’s Winter was not spent in toil. 
When the creek was frozen solid they had large 
skating parties there, the whole scene lighted up 
by immense wood fires (since wood cost only the 
expense of cutting and hauling), and ending with 
a hot and appetizing, though plain, supper at the 
farm-house. Or they had grand coasting on the 
long hill-slopes, and merry sleigh-rides. 

Then the literary society met twice a month, 
except during the hot and busy months of Sum- 
mer. All the members of Mr. Charlton’s family 
were old enough, and none of them too old, to 
enjoy it, and to take their share in provision for 
the enjoyment of others. The subjects were always 
assigned by a committee, changed each month, and 
they were never too wise to listen to reasonable 
petitions. The lads were sometimes set to dis- 
cuss a practical question, always briefly and with- 
out notes; sometimes to read aloud or to provide 
])uzzles for the grown folks. Sensible essays, 
music, and well-selected, well-read articles of 
value on questions of j)opular interest, made this 
a school for the young and kept the old from 
getting rusty. 

When such societies meet in cities it is gener- 


94 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


ally best that no refreshment be allowed, since, 
however small may be the original bill of fare, a 
love of display is apt to creep in, until prepara- 
tion for the evening becomes a heavy burden to 
the busy housekeeper, and the society falls into 
disfavor. But here some of the members rode 
three or four miles to attend it, and would need 
food on their return if the society did not pro- 
vide it; so they allt)wcd hot colfee, buttered 
bread or buns, and one kind of plain cake (ap- 
ples, of course, never count in the country). 

Any one violating this by-law by furnishing 
any addition to these specified articles of food, 
would be punished by a fine of five dollars, to be 
used toward the establishment of a public li- 
brary in the village. They had long talked of a 
public library, and hoped to have one ; but no 
one liked the idea of paying this fine, so the 
supper remained an easy thing to prepare, and 
yet a help to the sociability of the evening. 

They were the more careful to make these 
evenings pleasant, because one element of social 
life common in country towns, and alas! too often 
in cities, was lacking here ; for years the leading 
people of their Church had resolutely opposed 
all plans for church speculation in the shape of 
fairs, suppers, exhibitions, etc,, and had finally 
driven the money changers out of the temple. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


95 


But they tried to make the prayer-meetings a 
sort of compensation, and they succeeded in hav- 
ing them always full. The infant-class room 
where they were held was so bright and warm, 
so well aired and lighted, the chairs brought in 
from the audience-room and basement so com- 
fortable, that every body looked cheerful ; then 
the singing was full of life and feeling; all re- 
marks were short (boiled down, as their pastor 
used to say) ; women took part freely and added 
to the interest, — for women, at least, since they 
had often a message for their peculiar trials as 
mothers and busy, toiling housewives. This 
strange prayer-meeting also had a budget-box, 
where any question of duty or difficult passage 
of Scripture, any request for prayer for self or 
children, or any thanksgiving for answered 
prayer — in fact, any want or aspiration of the 
spiritual life — might be brought. The box was 
placed where the slips could be dropped unob- 
served through the day or evening. At the close 
of the exercises the pastor gathered up the notes 
and read them all, answering what he could, and 
deferring the answer to any difficult one to the 
next meeting. Then he made his own five min- 
utes’ speech, taking care that it should explain 
and apply just one truth that might be carried 
home into daily life and made the subject of the 


9G 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


next meeting’s discussions. No prayer-meeting, 
liowever interesting, was allowed to continue over 
an hour; they began at seven in Winter and half- 
past seven in Summer, so there was always time 
for cordial interchange of greetings afterward. 
The prayer-meeting grew to be a great attraction, 
and no trifle even of bad weather was allowed to 
hinder its regular attendants. 

Active, out-door exercise and healthful habits 
had made the Charlton family strong, and given 
them exemption from many illnesses to which 
the village people were subject; so it was a shock 
to them as well as a pain when Grace became ill 
with a low fever. There was little suffering, ex- 
cept the aching, bruised feeling that fever brings; 
but appetite and strength left her and her sleep 
was broken and disturbed by troubled dreams. 
It was a severe and sudden check in her busy, 
happy life. Tender care and nursing alleviated 
much of the suffering, and soon the worst symp- 
toms were subdued, but the want of energy and 
strength were hard to bear. It seemed to the 
young girl that all the life and joy of youth, all 
its pleasant, self-satisfying activity was over for- 
ever, that she must henceforth submit to be an 
invalid like her aunt, Mrs. Gray. How often 
she had wondered at her placid endurance of 
severe pain and sleepless nights, of the plain food 


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97 


to which she must restrict her appetite, of her 
inability to read or write long, or to endure ex- 
citement of any kind. The fear of this had made 
her struggle against the first symptoms of illness 
and try to conceal them; when headache and 
lauguor came on she attempted to drive them off 
by long walks ; she forced herself to be cheerful 
and to take up daily duties; whereas, had "she 
given up her efforts and submitted to medical 
treatment she might have escaped the long ill- 
ness. Now the overtasked powers avenged them- 
selves and submission was inevitable. Her mother 
understood from her own experience the peculiar 
trials of this time of enforced idleness, and one 
afternoon, when Mrs. Gray was resting on a 
lounge in Grace’s room, she read to them this 
passage from Ruskin concerning Life Rests 
“ ^ There is no music in a rest, but there is 
the making of music in it.’ In our whole life- 
melody the music is broken off here and there 
by ‘ rests,’ and we foolishly think we have come 
to the end of the tune. 

God sends a time of forced leisure, sickness, 
disappointed plans, frustrated efforts, and makes 
a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives, 
and we lament that our voices must be silent, and 
our part missing in the music which ever goes uj) 
to the ear of the Creator. How does the musi- 
7 


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cian read the rest? See him beat the time witli 
unvarying count, and catch up the next note true 
and steady, as if no breaking place had come 
between. 

Not without design does God write the music 
of our lives. Be it ours to learn the tune, and 
not be dismayed at the ‘ rests.’ They are not to 
be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to de- 
stroy the melody, not to change the key-note. 
If we look up, God himself will beat the time 
for us. 

“With the eye on him, we shall strike the 
next note full and clear. If we say sadly to our- 
selves, ‘There is no music in a rest,’ let us not 
forget ‘ there is the making of music in it.’ The 
making of music is often a slow and painful pro- 
cess in this life. How patiently God works to 
teach us ! How long he waits for us to learn the 
lesson !” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Gray, “ we cheerfully give 
years of toil to acquire the little knowledge and 
skill in music that we obtain here; but how un- 
willing we are to learn the full, grateful, joyous 
songs of those ‘ who came out of great tribula- 
tion !’ Often I think that the music of heaven 
will be no succession of oratorios, but the glad 
outpouring of gratitude for remembered help and 
comfort. The meeting with an old friend, the 


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99 


listening to the story of some other saved sinner, 
will revive the memory of long-forgotten mer- 
cies, and lead us to acknowledge them with song 
* unto Him who loved us/ Song, you know, 
is the natural language of joy here, and there- 
fore the worship of heaven — the home of per- 
fect happiness — must be largely a worship of 
song,” 

Auntie, you always speak of heaven as 
though you had been there, it seems so real 
to you.” 

“ That is not strange, since my thoughts have 
had so much leisure to travel thither. My life 
now is spent in the past or in the future; my 
past is so full of mistakes and sins that but for 
the assurance of forgiveness and the trust that 
what seem to me blunders may have been prov- 
identially ordered for me, I could not endure the 
retrospect. But I have the assurance that * all 
things work together for good to them that love 
God,’ and the promise, ^Whatsoever ye ask in 
prayer, believing, yc shall receive.’ I ask Him 
to undo the evil I may have done, to overrule 
my mistakes so that the good of those I love may 
yet be promoted even through me. Then I rest 
in faith, and she unfolds her wings and bears me 
to a land where there will be no blunders, no sin, 
no wasted lives, no fruitless efforts. We shall 


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work there for the Master, for it is written, ‘ His 
servants shall serve him.’ So all my failures 
may have been a preparation for the grander 
work there, as your ‘ rest,’ dear Gracie, may make 
your life-work more expressive of God’s will.” 

‘‘ O, I trust it may be so,” said Grace ; ‘‘ but 
auntie, I do n’t see how people who have no trust 
in God, no faith in his love and providential 
care, and no hope of heaven, can endure trouble 
and pain, and loss of friends and property. No 
wonder that so many of them commit suicide ; to 
think of losing all here and having nothing here- 
after ! Is n’t that the reason that so many oppose 
the idea of immortality ? Annihilation seems so 
much easier than going out alone in utter dark- 
ness to an unknown future.” 

“I think you are right, dear; and such op- 
posers might be answered as I heard brother an- 
swer a Universalist : ‘ Suppose you are right, and 
I am wrong, am I not as safe as you even then? 
But suppose you should prove to be mistaken, 
and the Bible doctrines true, which, then, is most 
likely to be safe?”’ 

Mrs. Charlton, who had gone out for a 
few minutes, came in just then. “ You are 
talking too long,” she said; “let me read you 
something quieting.” They listened gladly as 
she read: 


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101 


“TRUST. 

“The child leans on its parent’s breast, 
Leaves there its cares, and is at rest. 
The bird sits swinging by its nest, 

" And tells aloud 
His trust in God, and so is blest 
’Neath every cloud. 

He has no store, he sows no seed. 

Yet sings aloud and doth not heed; 
By flowing streams or grassy mead 
He sings, to shame 
Men who forget, in hour of need, 

A Father’s name. 

The heart that trusts forever sings. 
And feels as light as it had wings; 

A well of peace within it springs: 
Come good or ill, 

Whate’er to-day, to-morrow brings. 

It is His will.” 


“IN THE FOO. 

“The sparrows are chirping, chirping, 
Tliough the air with mist is full ; 

They seem to say, ‘ What matter 
If the day is cold and dull ? 

- Or fair or foul the weather. 

The Lord is merciful. 

He gives us each our portion 
In sunshine or in rain ; 

AVe eat our crumbs and praise Him 
For every tiny grain ; 

He thinks of the little sparrows, 

And how can we complain ? 


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The chirp of the sparrow chides me ; 

Faint not, O soul of mine ! 

If the Lord for such is caring, 

He’ll care for thee and thine. 

Weak is the faith that falters 

When the sun forgets to shine. 

‘ For are not ye much hotter 

Than they ?’ the dear Lord says ; 

‘ Why, then, are ye so faithless ? 

Trust me in darkest days ?’ 

Chirp on, ye little sparrows, 

I, too, will trust and praise.” 

— Mrs. Helen E. Brown. 

“SUFFERINO. 

“ Suffering is the work now sent ; 

Nothing can I do hut lie 
Suffering as the hours go hy: 

All my powers to this are hent. 

Suffering is my gain ; I how 

To my heavenly Father’s will, 

And receive it, hushed and still : 

Suffering is my worship now.” 

' — Richter. 

Aunt Mary,” said Grace, next day, ‘‘ I was 
talking over our conversation with Edward last 
night, and he says he knows several young men 
who are honorable and upright, but who claim 
that their ^ honest doubt ’ is better than the self- 
deceit of half the Church members.” 

“ That may be, my dear ; but would not hon- 
est faith be better than either? They will never 


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103 


learn the truth by standing at a distance from it; 
tlie Scripture promise is, ‘ If any man Avill do 
His will, he shall know of the doctrine whether 
it be of God/ Are not these men somewhat like 
those who stood outside the ark, doubting Noah’s 
word and the threatened deluge? What support 
or consolation can infidelity afford them ? What 
refuge in time of trouble, what comfort in death, 
what hope for eternity? The ranks of infidelity 
are not recruited from those who have faithfully 
followed Christ, who have learned to know him 
as a friend, who have lived in communion with 
him, but have finally thought it a delusion, and 
that Materialism or Buddhism contains more sat- 
isfying, enlightening, hopeful truth. How many 
instances are on record of men in doubt or dis- 
like of Christian doctrine going to the Bible to 
sustain their doubts, finding the truth instead, 
and resting in it and proclaiming it, as did St. 
Paul. Such men as Robert Ingersoll wisely avoid 
acquaintance with the Bible, as his writings show 
jilainly. Some one after hearing his lecture, ‘ The 
Mistakes of Moses,’ remarked, ^ The lecture had 
better have been called, The Mistakes of Robert.’” 


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IX. 

r^MONG the books Mr. Charlton had brought 
^ from New York were two rew ones on ge- 
ology, w'ritten by wise men who knew how 
7 to simplify and present clearly important 
% truths. This study was new to Edward 
and more fascinating than a novel. Ever since 
.they could remember they had been learning to 
know the different trees by their foliage and 
manner of growth, the several grains by their 
differing stalks and heads, the various grasses 
and what soil each prefers, where the fine abun- 
dant herd grass flourishes and where only the 
coarse orchard grass will grow; how a little 
heap of half-eaten leaves and disturbed ground 
may warn the careful observer away from the 
nest of the yellow-jacket, the terror of man and 
animals on a farm. They learned the different 
insect pests and the best ways of protecting the 
garden from them or of destroying them, and 
that the slandered toad and the birds are man’s 
best helpers in this work, taking from us far less 
than they have earned. 

Now Albert went, after morning lessons were 


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105 


done, to watch the wood-cutters, to learn the 
texture and bark of different trees, how by the 
peeuliar roughness of the bark and the growth 
of the moss they show the storm side, and thus 
have often indicated to lost travelers the points 
of the compass. He learned how to judge the 
age of a tree by counting its concentric rings of 
growth, to observe the different modes of branch- 
ing, and learn why one tree is durable and valu- 
able for building, another capable of taking a fine 
polish for furniture, while another is fit only for 
fuel. Meanwhile Edward was studying the rocks 
on the place, applying his knowledge as far as 
possible and thereby making it his own posses- 
sion; unlike the school-girl who, on being ques- 
tioned about some scientific truth, said : “ Yes, I 
know it all ; it is in one of the books in my 
trunk.” 

He studied the cliffs where the creek, cutting 
its way ages ago, had left the layers of rock ex- 
posed, as though to show man some of earth’s 
hidden wonders. He colleeted stones full of 
fossil remains, and water-washed boulders, that 
showed how the great valley of the Ohio was once 
the bed of an immense lake. He found on the 
farm beds of dolomite that brought the State 
geologist to examine and experiment upon ; for 
days he wandered over the place, and Edward 


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improved to the utmost this splendid opportunity 
to become acquainted with the stones and geologic 
formation of the land. The dolomite that would 
have made a beautiful building stone, and that 
the committee hoped to use in building the pro- 
jected court-house in Indianapolis, was found too 
brittle for working, as it lay too near the surface 
and had hardened. But Edward discovered a 
quarry of limestone near the house, near the sur- 
face of the ground, too, and with the laud sloping 
on one side so that it was a small labor to open 
it, and as this was composed of distinct layers, 
averaging three inches in thickness, it supplied 
the place with large paving-stones; with these 
they made high, smooth walks to the ditferent 
out-buildings, and still the supply seemed inex- 
haustible. Edward had already placed shelves 
diagonally across one corner of the library and 
arranged his specimens of minerals there, each 
labeled and placed in its own class. 

But these were only their amusements. Long 
before Christmas the corn had been husked and 
gathered into the corn-cribs; the cattle had re- 
quired daily care, and this was never left to their 
father. Jim helped in these labors, his life going 
on in safe quiet and regularity ; he was never 
trusted to go to the village alone, and Miss Cath- 
arine took great care that his studies should not 


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107 


only fit him for practical life, but that they should 
so interest him as to lift him above sensual pleas- 
ures. He learned to admire the wonders around 
him and to grow fond of the living creatures; he 
tauglit the cows and calves to come when he 
called their names, and the chickens to eat from 
his hand. It whs a pretty sight — Jim stooping 
to feed his pets who clustered around him, 
while the pigeons lighted on his head and shoul- 
ders and ran along his arms to secure their 
share. But often Margaret found that food she 
had saved for their meals had been carried otf to 
give variety to the meals of his pets; until he 
came it had not been necessary to turn keys in 
the Charlton house; now they were careful to do 
it that no temptation might be placed in his way. 
Since poor Jim’s uneducated conscience was not 
sensitive to right and wrong, they must watch 
that right habits should aid in the growth of 
right principles. 

Ida found that her pupils needed many lessons 
besides those in dress-making, but they were 
grateful and willing to improve ; had they been 
anxious to do so and watchful to imitate her 
ways and act upon her hints her task would have 
been far easier. But the difficulty with them, as 
it is with uneducated people generally, was that 
they were not conscious of their own ignorance; 


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certain ways were Miss Ida’s and they suited her 
well, but they sometimes said among themselves 
with self-satisfaction, “ ’ T is n’t our way.” 

But the little Julia was to be trained among 
them, and Ida — knowing how any refinement or 
attention to good manners would help her 
through life — tried to reform the untaught ways 
of the household. It seemed to them very 
strange and unnecessary to use napkins at dinner, 
to eat with their forks, to ask to be helped in- 
stead of reaching over the table, to take food 
from the dish with its fork or spoon instead of 
using their own. It was well that Ida dined 
with them, for at the other meals they enjoyed 
the freedom of old habits. 

One morning Kate had a valuable lesson. 
Mrs. Manning had come in early to say that she 
wanted her new Spring dress to wear that after- 
noon, as she expected company; every thing was 
done but the basque, and Miss Ida had not yet 
come ; she would show her how well she could 
do it without her aid! When Miss Ida came in 
at the usual time she found Mrs. Manning stand- 
ing with the dress on and Kate vainly trying to 
pull out the wrinkles. She had laid the pattern 
crooked upon the goods, and the whole was 
askew. She dismissed Mrs. Manning with the 
promise to send for her when it was ready, and 


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109 


vainly attempted by rebasting to overcome the 
difficulty ; to cut away the crooked parts would 
make the basque too small. Janey was dis- 
patched to try to match it in the village, but it 
had been bought in Cincinnati and there was no 
time to send so far. Suddenly Ida recollected 
that among the dress-patterns she had bought in 
New York was one like this; so she sent Janey 
with a sample and note to Mrs. Charlton request- 
ing her, if the pieces were exactly alike, to send 
her the goods: Janey soon came back in triumph ; 
they were exactly alike, and Miss Ida had the 
work finished in time. But she had lost her own 
dress, and she determined to make it useful. 

“ Kate,” she said decidedly, “ you have made 
me trouble to-day by neglecting to observe my 
directions. You can not say you did not under- 
stand them. I have so often shown you just how 
to do the work that sometimes it seems to me 
you will never learn. Certainly you never will 
unless you become in earnest yourself and culti- 
vate a teachable spirit; you need constantly to 
be reminded, and now I must give you a re- 
minder. You have deprived me of my new 
dress, for I could not wear such a fit; but since 
you chose to make it so you are the person to 
wear it. I give you the dress on condition that 
you wear it just as you have fitted it; this is my 


110 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


last hope for you ; if you do not learn from it a 
a lesson of carefulness you will never make a 
dress-maker.” 

Kate submitted and wore the dress, with fre- 
quent tears, for each time she put it on she saw 
more plainly her faults. This was a decided step 
onward, and in time she could be trusted to cut 
out and fit plain dresses. 

Now the farm was cleaned up for Spring work, 
the fences put in order, and the ground enriched ; 
for every thing around gave promise of the ap- 
proach of the time dear to poets and to the 
young. The air grew soft and fragrant, the sun- 
shine had a warmth and sweetness that Winter 
had missed : the grass put on a tender, delicate 
green as though Winter snows had purified it. 
Spring birds came back and were busy and anx- 
ious about their housekeeping plans ; for the 
time of chirp and song, of wooing and coyness 
was soon over, and the dainty wife took part in 
the labor of home making. 

In the woods bloomed Nature’s darlings — the 
Spring beauty, the dicentra, violets in white, yel- 
low, blue, and purple, only less lovely than the 
English and Southern violet in lacking fragrance, 
that expression of the spirit of a flower. Eryge- 
nia, daughter of the Spring, and sanguinaria and 
anemone, patches of wind-tossed snow! In the 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Ill 


flower-bocls near the house crocuses and hyacinths 
of every shade made the air fragrant, while 
dog-wood and red-bud blossomed in the woods 
against a shaded background of dark-green pine 
and spruce and cedar, mingled with the light, 
fresh green of the new foliage on the deciduous 
trees. 

O, glorious Easter time ! when all nature 
calls us to rise from earthly entanglements and 
dead hopes ; to put on the purity and freshness 
of a better life, and to rejoice in the light of the 
risen Sun of Righteousness ! 

“THE VOICE OF THE GRASS. 

“Here I C'ome creeping, creeping everywhere; 

By the dusty roadside, 

On the sunny hillside. 

Close by tlie noisy brook, 

In every shady nook, 

I come creeping, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere; 

All round the open door. 

Where sit the aged poor ; 

Here where the children play. 

In the bright and merry May, 

I come creeping, creeping everywhere. 

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere ; 

In the noisy city street 
My pleasant face you ’ll meet. 

Cheering the sick at heart. 

Toiling his busy part. 

Silently creeping, creeping everywhere. 


112 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere ; 

My humble song of praise 
Most joyfully I raise 
To Him at whose command 
I beautify the land, 

Creeping, silently creeping, everywhere.” 

— Saeah Roberts. 

“CHORUS OF FLOWERS. 

“ We are the sweet flowers. 

Born of sunny showers 

(Think, whene’er you see us, what our beauty saith), 
Utterance, mute and bright, 

Of some unknown delight, 

We fill the air with pleasure by our simple breath: 

All who see us love us — 

We befit all places; 

Unto sorrow we give smiles, and unto graces races. 

Mark our ways, how noiseless 
All, and sweetly voiceless. 

Though the March winds pipe to make our passage clear ; 
Not a whisper tells 
Where our small seed dwells. 

Nor is known the moment green when our tips appear. 
We tread the earth in silence. 

In silence build our bowers. 

And leaf by leaf in silehce show till we laugh a-top, sweet 
flowers. 

Think of all these treasures. 

Matchless works, and pleasures. 

Every one a marvel, more than thought can say ; 

Then think in what bright showers 
We thicken fields and bowers. 

And with what heaps of sweetness half stifle wanton May ; 
Think of the mossy forests 
By the bee-birds haunted. 

And all those Amazonian idains, lone lying as enchanted. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


113 


Who shall say that flowers 
Dress not heaven’s own bowers? 

Who its love, without us, can fancy, or sweet floor. 

Who shall even dare 
To say we sprang not there. 

And came not down, that love might bring one piece of 
heaven the more? 

O ! pray believe that angels 
From those blue dominions 

Brought us in their white laps down, ’twixt their golden 
pinions. — Leigh. Hunt. 

HYMN TO THE FLOWERS. 

Day-stars ! that ope your eyes with morn to twinkle 
From rainbow galaxies of earth’s creation, 

And dew-drops on lier lonely altars sprinkle 
As a libation ! 

Ye matin worshipers! who bending lowly 
Before the uprisen sun — God’s lidless eyes — 

Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy • 

Incense on high ! 

’Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingetli 
And tolls its perfume on the passing air. 

Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
A call to prayer. 

In the sweet-scented pictures. Heavenly Artist! 

With which thou paintest Nature’s wide-spread hall 
What a delightful lesson thou impartest 
Of love to all ! 

Not useless are ye, flowers, though made for pleasure. 
Blooming o’er field and wave, by day and night, 

From every source your sanction bids me treasure 
Harmless delight. 

8 


114 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Posthumous glories ! angel-like collection 1 

Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth, 

Ye are to me a type of resurrection, 

And second birth. 

Were I, O God ! in churchless lands remaining, 

Far from all voice of teachers or divines, 

My soul would find in flowers of thy ordaining 
Priests, sermons, shrines! 

— Horace Smith. 

Now the men prepared the garden ground, 
and the lads helped them plant lettuce and cress 
and parsley and peas, while the hot-beds, with 
young plants that would be ready to set out when 
all danger of frost was over, were uncovered daily 
to the warm air. 

Suddenly came a snow-storm ; but the brave 
flowers smiled through it, in full confidence that 
sunshine would soon conquer it. Now the or- 
chards were white and pink with fruit-blossoms, 
a transient fairy-land. 

Soon the early garden was planted and the 
great expanse of corn-land was broken up, drilled, 
and sown by machinery. The men disinfected 
and whitewashed the inside of chicken and out- 
houses, while the farm-house underwent a thor- 
ough cleaning. 

With the Spring days Grace’s strength came 
slowly back. She loved to sit on the sunny side 
of the porch and dream sweet dreams, while 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


115 


drinking in the beauty and sweetness and active 
life of all around. No matter how busy they 
were, no pleasant day was allowed to pass with- 
out a ride, when she and Mrs. Gray wished it; 
generally a slow, quiet drive, more restful than 
repose on a lounge would have been. The dainty 
Spring vegetables gave them appetite, and tran- 
quil life in the open air brought back sleep. 

It was a great joy to all when Grace insisted 
on taking again her place in the household and 
resuming old duties. But nowhere was she more 
warmly welcomed than at Sabbath-school. Ed- 
ward had kept her class, and exerted himself to 
interest the pupils ; but he learned a lesson as to 
woman’s natural adaptability to train the young 
when he heard a little girl say, joyously ; 

We ’ve got a teacher now !” 

“ Why, you ’ve had a teacher — that nice young 
gentleman.” 

O, he ’s not a teacher — he ’s only a man !” 
was the scornful answer, and one that helped to 
moderate Edward’s natural pride of manhood, 
and show him his sister’s ability. 

Grace was able now to take care of the flowers, 
and soon the house was sweet with the breath of 
roses — the delicate hermosa and sweet-brier, the 
lordly jacqueminot, the dear old cinnamon rose 
of exquisite fragrance, and the abundant centi- 


116 


A BAIL ROAD WAIF. 


folio, every one of its hundred leaves rich in be- 
nevolent sweetness. It would be a delightful 
task to name the dear, old-fashioned flowers that 
blossomed in succession on lawn and woodland. 
Each day brought its new charm and a constant 
temptation to be out among them. 

Jim was happy with the young broods of 
chickens and turkeys, and with the calves. This 
was to him the first sight of nature’s annual res- 
urrection, and Mr. Charlton never failed to re- 
mind his household of the lessons and the hopes 
it brought. His Bible-readings to them now were 
not connected chapters, but verses selected here 
and there from that loving poet, David, who, as 
a watchful shepherd boy, saw the beauty of sky 
and mountain, of flowers and brooks, and the 
might of storm and tempest, as the busy king 
never could have seen them ; from the grandeur 
of Isaiah; from the tender teachings of Christ, 
who loved the flowers he made, and chose them 
to illustrate his love for us ; from St. Paul’s care- 
ful study of natural religion, and his illustrations 
of resurrection and the future life. It was easy 
here to understand the meaning of such verses 
as these : 

‘‘ Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground 
and die, it abideth alone ; but if it die, it bringeth 
forth much fruit.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


117 


“The branch can not bear fruit of itself, un- 
less it abide in the vine.” 

“ Every branch in me that beareth not fruit 
he taketh away, and every branch that beareth 
fruit, he pruneth it, that it may bring forth more 
fruit.” 

“ It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power ; 
it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual 
body.” 

The white strawberry-blossoms had starred 
their beds, and soon the green fruit appeared and 
began to enlarge and redden under the sunshine. 
The berry season kept Jim busy for months — the 
succession of raspberries, blackberries, dewberries, 
gooseberries, and currants. There were cherries 
to gather; and from the time they began to change 
color Jim haunted the cherry-trees as faithfully 
as the robins did. Margaret’s food was safe now, 
since nature had opened to him her abundant 
treasures; life was one continued feast, and its 
fullness kept him from even thought of wrong. 
He had learned to weed the garden-beds, and 
took pride in the growth of the vegetables and 
the neat appearance of the walks. He now knew 
how to select and gather fruit and vegetables care- 
fully, and felt each day that he had learned some- 
thing, had taken one step nearer to the small farm 
that was still his air-castle. 


118 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


% 

UMMER wore on. The Spring chickens 
and Summer apples had been sold, fruit put 
up for Winter use, the hay cut aud raked 
7 up by macliines that Mr. Charlton owned, 
5 and safely housed or stacked for the Winter, 
and now the wheat was ready for the dreaded 
reapers and threshers. Jim had done so well 
that they all dreaded for him the temptation. 
After consultation, it was decided that Miss Grace 
should take him with her on her visit to a friend 
about four miles distant. This would keep her 
from the nervous excitement and the severe toil 
incident to such a raid, and place Jim out of 
harm’s way. But the day after they went — the 
very day that the reapers were expeeted — Mr. 
Charlton, going to his barn at twilight, found 
Jim coiled up in the hay. He had walked all 
the way back, had gotten in the village a bag of 
crackers and some cigars, and was waiting for the 
reapers to spend the night in the barn. 

Hitherto he had seen only the forgiving side 
of Mr. Charlton’s character; he was now to learn 
its granite basis, its righteous indignation against 



A RAILROAD WAIF. 


119 


sin while trying to save the sinner. What are 
you doing here? Why did you leave Miss 
Grace?” he asked sternly. 

The detected boy could only tell the truth. 
Without a word, Mr. Charlton took him by the 
hand, and, with long, hurried strides, brought 
him to one of his tenant-houses at the extreme 
edge of the place from the entrance gate — a lonely 
spot, where, without the watch that Sandy and 
his wife kept, the fruit would have been stolen. 
Mrs. McGoveny was a strong, brave Scotch- 
woman. She did the laundry work for the house 
and herself, cultivated their nice garden, from 
which and from their poultry she almost clothed 
and fed herself and Sandy. Sandy was stout and 
energetic. He worked on the farm when needed, 
and at other times found employment in the 
neighborhood. Jim’s heart sank at once. Here 
would be a muscular government, stronger for 
him than the government of love under which he 
had spent the year. 

Mrs. McGoveny,” said Mr. Charlton, “ I 
want to put this boy under your care. Do you 
think you can keep him from leaving the place?” 

“No fear of that, sir. Sandy has a stout ash 
stick, and he knows how to use it; and when 
he ’s away I ’m not that weak myself but I could 
manage him.” 


120 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


“Very well. I ’ll pay his board with you for 
a week. If he leaves your ground, you are not 
to take him back and give him food and shelter, 
nor will I give him a home again ; but if he 
obeys you and stays quietly here, I may possibly 
take him back. I can tell better about that when 
you report to me how he has behaved here. Good- 
night, Mrs. McGoveny.” And for the first time 
since he came to the farm Jim had to go to bed 
without any one to wish him good-night. He 
sobbed himself to sleep, big boy as he -was; but 
his regrets were not for the lost delights of the 
reaping and threshing, but for the home that had 
become dear to him. 

Sandy and his wife gave him plenty of plain 
food, and his bed was neat and comfortable ; but 
he had not realized before how the kindly tones, 
the air of refinement, the atmosphere of love, 
had sweetened and brightened his life. Day by 
day he brooded over this heavy trouble. Must 
he live always in such a home, or, still worse, be 
again homeless, with no one to care for him, no 
place that belonged to him? Was he never again 
to see Mr. Edward, or Mr. Albert, or Miss Grace, 
or the chickens and the calves? The horses, too; 
they had learned to come at his call, and Mr. 
Charlton trusted him to ride them to water. He 
wondered who gathered the vegetables, and col- 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


121 


looted the eggs, and kept the garden-beds free 
from weeds. 

It was not strange that the good woman’s 
childless heart grew soft toward the unhappy lad, 
and that, when Sandy came home on Saturday 
night with the request that she would take him 
up to the farm-house, she had no complaint to 
make. His confession was humble, and his en- 
treaty to be taken back showed that he had ap- 
preciated his privileges better than they supposed. 
When told he might stay, his earnest “You’ve 
been mighty good to me,” and tlie choking that 
sent him out into the yard showed that Jim had 
found his heart. He lay a long time with his 
face buried in the grass ; then he rushed to visit 
one pet after another, and came back gentle and 
subdued, but with shining eyes. What a Sabbath 
the next day was ! How the sun shone and the 
birds sang ! The boy never forgot it. 

But Jim was not the only sufferer from his 
disobedience. No one is so separated from hu- 
manity that his sin does not bring suffering to 
some innocent being. Again and again Mr. 
Charlton questioned how to keep the boy from 
temptation. He well knew that he had no right 
to expect an answer to his prayers that Jim might 
be kept from evil unless he himself would do all 
in his power to keep evil from him. As long as 


122 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


he continued to raise wheat he must employ that 
class of men, and thus encourage a source of evil 
to the entire community. Two young men from 
their quiet village were in the penitentiary for 
crime. Where did the responsibility of this 
rest? Certainly not on the ignorant and de- 
graded class, but on those who permitted or en- 
couraged dram-shops, horse-races, and gambling- 
hells. 

Men who are strong in inherited virtues and 
in the wise training of careful Christian parents, 
for both of which they may thank God, not 
themselves, forget, in their strength and uncon- 
scious pride of goodness, the Bible rules : “ Let 
no man put a stumbling-block, or an occasion to 
hill, in his brother’s way “ We that are strong 
ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not 
to please ourselves.” 

Mr. Charlton’s broad wheat-fields had always 
been a pride, as well as a source of profit. True, 
he could buy young cattle and cultivate grass for 
them instead ; but he dreaded to try new plans. 
It seemed so much easier and safer to go on in 
the accustomed way. Wheat- raising he under- 
stood, and felt that he ran no risks in that as he 
might in buying and raising cattle. It was for 
awhile a perplexity, a doubt, what was duty, and 
he carried it to his second conscience, as he some- 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


123 


times called his wife. She said but little ; she 
did not even advise him what to do ; but some- 
how the path seemed plainer, and when the usual 
time to sow the Winter wheat came, he told 
Sandy that he had changed his plans, and would 
try pasturing instead; so in place of wheat they 
sowed grass-seed. A year or two of experiment 
satisfied him that this was as profitable and less 
laborious than wheat-raising. Since the immense 
wheat-fields of the West can supply not only our 
own but foreign countries, no farmer of a few 
hundred acres need meet this discomfort and 
perpetuate this evil. 

One Sabbath afternoon in the Fall Mr. Charl- 
ton took Jim with him to the field, where last 
year he had shown him the pale green of the 
young wheat, and asked him to notice the differ- 
ence. Then he described the pride he had long 
felt in his wheat, and told him why he had given 
up raising it and put the ground into grass 
instead. 

The poor waif was astounded. That any body 
should make such a sacrifice for him ! That any 
body had so cared for him as to watch and plan 
for his good ! Why, Mr. Charlton could not 
have been more careful for one of his own chil- 
dren ! He tried to express this, and his voice 
failed him. It was a favorable moment to speak 


124 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


of the Good Shepherd, who left heaven to give 
his LIFE for the sheep — of the watchful care that 
numbers the very hairs of our heads, and that 
lets no sparrow fall but as he directs. The soil 
was prepared, and the good seed sank into it and 
germinated, and in time brought forth fruit. 

There was a time of deep seriousness in their 
Church that Winter. The earnest clergyman 
could not rest without some assurance that he was 
in the path of duty ; he longed for seals to his 
ministry. Often he spoke of this to Mrs. Gray ; 
and while Mr. Warrener in his study earnestly 
besought a blessing, the invalid on her lounge 
joined in the prayer, and so the promise to “ two 
or three” was fulfilled. 

Jim had grown a stout, strong boy. He was 
now twelve years old — old enough to attend the 
early prayer-meeting — and Mr. Charlton took 
him with the family. Before Spring Jim’s 
changed manner and the glad light that his face 
habitually wore showed that the Light of the 
World had manifested himself even to him. Mr. 
Charlton had his reward. 

Edward and Albert loved the farm. They 
knew how dear it was to their father, and how 
he liked to pursue accustomed methods and those 
that relieved him from anxiety. So when they 
saw him giving up his own wishes and plans for 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


125 


the spiritual good of one poor waif, whose salva- 
tion seemed almost hopeless, they realized some- 
thing of the value of the immortal soul. “ What 
shall it profit a man ?” It haunted them in work 
and pleasure, and they brought to the religious 
meetings a new interest. 

“ Says God, Who comes toward me an inch through doubt- 
ings dim, 

In blazing light do I approach a yard towards him.” 

Even an Oriental poet had learned this by 
the best of all earthly teachers, experience ; so, 
though their way was longer than Jim’s had been, 
and they were bewildered and hindered by the 
wisdom of this world, that, placing God at a dis- 
tance from us and calling prayer a delusion, 
would leave us helpless and alone in darkness, 
they at last ventured to trust wholly. 

“ Nothing before, nothing behind ; 

The steps of Faith 
Fall on the seeming void, and find 
The Eock beneath.” 

Mr. Warrener had taken a deep interest in 
Edward’s study of geology ; and one evening, as 
the literary society had directed him to read some- 
thing on the subject, he brought an article that 
he had cut from one of the religious papers on the 
subject of “ Earthquakes.” He read as follows : 

It is an accepted fact of science that toward 
the center of the earth the fires of the primal 


126 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


creation are still raging, and that the matter of 
the fflobe around the center, if not fluid with 
heat, is at least at sueh an intense temperature 
as would fluidize the hardest granite if the press- 
ure upon it were sufficiently lifted to give that 
vent whieh incandescence requires. The volca- 
noes tell that story. But it is not often realized 
how alarmingly near to us these fires are. 

“ Thus the temperature rises so rapidly, as 
descent is made towards the earth’s center, as to 
force the conclusion that at a distance of not 
more than sixty or seventy miles from the surface 
the heat is great enough to melt the hardest rock. 
But this distance is only about one-si xty-sixth 
part of the line from the surface to the center. 
In other words, the shell around the burning part 
of the world is to the flaming mass as one is to 
sixty-six. The shell of an egg is to the egg 
about as one is to twenty. That is, the shell 
on which we strut in our ephemeral grandeur is, 
relatively to the mass, only about one-third as 
thick as an egg-shell. And right under the thin 
crust is a heat so great as to fluidize granite ! 

“ The wonder is not that earthquakes lift 
their menacing voices, or that the shell occasion- 
ally cracks wide enough to let a town drop in, 
but that the whole thing does not break up in an 
explosion. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


127 


“How thoroughly science agrees with the 
Bible in the suggestion that the end will be by 
fire! When this world is ready to be thrown as 
cinder along the track of God’s way, how easy, 
with one stroke, to break in the crust, and let 
tlie pent-up energy at the center do the rest! 
This may be speculation; but so the Bible talks; 
and, increasingly, so science affirms.” 

Spring brought Grace’s eighteenth birthday. 
The family had all been secretly planning how to 
observe it best. Miss Catherine and Miss Ida 
had each money left by their father, that yielded 
a small income, quite enough to pay their board, 
to clothe them, and to use in doing good. For 
some time they had been saving money toward 
Grace’s piano, and now took Mr. Charlton into 
their confidence. The result was a family coun- 
cil, called in Grace’s absence. Catharine and Ida 
would each give one hundred dollars ; Mrs. Charl- 
ton, fifty ; Edward had saved from sale of stones 
from his quarry, twenty-five ; Albert brought five 
dollars, from ginseng-roots sold to the druggist; 
and Mrs. Gray, five, from the sale of old silver. 
Something would be allowed for the old piano. 
Could her father supply the deficiency, if there 
were not enough ? That he would gladly do. 
Ida and he would select it, and have it sent down 
in time for the birthday. 


128 - 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


“ Grace must go for a few days to visit Hattie 
Graham, and bring her home with her,” sug- 
gested Mrs. Charlton. 

“Yes, and we’ll have a lawn party for her — 
a surprise. Edward can take the carriage, and 
bring them home on her birthday morning. We 
can give the invitations as soon as she has gone ; 
and while we’re in town we’ll get lawn-games 
and confectionery,” said Miss Ida. 

The piano was selected and in place, the old 
one carried away, the lawn cleaned and arranged 
with seats and games, and the dainty supper 
stowed away in the store-closet, when the girls 
came. Hearty and earnest were their congratu- 
lations to Grace, and great the pleasure of the 
girls at the idea of the impromptu party. They 
examined the new games, and admired the out- 
door arrangements, until the mother suggested 
that they must be fresh for the afternoon, when 
they went into the cool, shaded parlor to rest, 
and discovered the treasure ! Only the father and 
Ida had felt anxious lest the selection might not 
suit Grace ; but one look at her face as she 
touched the keys was enough. It was not merely 
pleasure and surprise, but love for the sweet tones, 
that shone there, and her fingers seemed to caress 
the keys as she played. 

It was a lovely day, the air pure and sweet, 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


129 


and dry and warm, while cool breezes played 
among the large shade-trees. The lawn seemed 
a fairy-land, with the bright young girls daintily 
and simply dressed, with the merry games and 
joyous tones. Many were the compliments show- 
ered on Grace and the efforts of several young 
gentlemen to win her special favor; but Mr. 
Warrener had brought with him his younger 
brother, who fortunately had arrived on a visit 
the day before, and his evident sincerity and cor- 
dial simplicity showed to good advantage beside 
the rather affected manners of some of Grace’s 
admirers. Her visit to New York, her love of 
Lucy, and regard for Mr. Warrener, made them 
friends, and she enjoyed the rather lengthened 
visit he made his brother, without once suspect- 
ing that any thing but brotherly love had drawn 
him to the village and now kept him there. Mr. 
Warrener’s family had not entered the whirlpool 
of gay society. They belonged in, and had been 
claimed by, a higher circle — the earnest workers 
for Christ, the unworldly rich people, that are 
nowhere more devoted and more conspicuous for 
good than in our large cities. The purity and 
simplicity of Grace’s character attracted him as 
beauty, wealth, and style could not do. It was 
the value of pearl or diamond beside that of 
glitter and gilding. 


9 


130 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


He hoped that some day he might transplant 
this wildwood flower to a home of his own ; but 
now he must be merely her friend. He knew that 
such love as hers is not easily won, is never the 
result of romance or sudden passion, but the slow 
growth of regard and confidence ; and he was 
content to wait, even as Jacob waited for Rachel — 
a long service, that to love seemed short, because 
the gain would compensate. 

“ Father,” said Edward the next evening, as 
the family sat together, “I do n’t think it’s fair 
that a man has to wait so much longer for his 
majority than a woman. What good does it do 
Grace to be of age ? She can ’t vote ; and yet a 
man must wait three years longer, when his vote 
might do some good.” 

“ My son,” said his father, “ you need be in 
no haste to enter politics.' You will find that 
your precious vote, that was to help the right, 
will be more than neutralized by Mike’s, who, 
paid for voting, and so drunk as not to realize 
the risk he runs, will vote as often as he can get 
a chance. In this country we are only a minor- 
ity. The rum-shops and gambling-hells would 
be closed; the sale of vile books and papers 
would be not merely forbidden, but prevented, if 
the votes of educated and religious men, of the 
patriotic and far-seeing of our nation, counted. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


131 


But this is a government by the masses. You 
have nearly five years to wait, but much to learn 
in that time. Meanwhile Grace has one advan- 
tage over a voter. She has only the responsibil- 
ity of trying to influence all around her for the 
right.” 

“ Why, father, that seems to be about all that 
we can do.” 

“ Yes ; in addition to that we must try to 
reach the lower class of voters. Since our laws 
give the ballot to the ignorant and degraded, we 
have no remedy but in trying to reform them, 
that they may help to reform others. The task 
seems almost hopeless, since these men and their 
leaders are careful to leave open every avenue 
to sin. Men of influence, who might lead these 
poor wretches aright, drag them lower, and rivet 
their chains tighter, for their own personal or 
party ends. A man who maintains his purity 
at Washington or in office is a wonder to us. 
Often must the philanthropist and the patriot 
despair of our country’s future. 

“ ‘ God’s ways seem dark ; but, soon or late, 

They touch the shining hills of day ; 

The evil can not brook delay. 

The good can well afford to wait. 

Give ermined knaves their hour of crime ; 

Ye have the future grand and great. 

The safe appeal of Truth to Time.’ 


132 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


But we must not wait in inaction ; we must at- 
tend primary meetings, and see that pure, good, 
capable men are nominated for office. We must 
work for principle, not party, and must remember 
that each evil conquered in ourselves or others is 
a traitor that would have been more dangerous to 
our country than a foreign foe. Greece, Rome, 
Assyria, all the powerful nations of old, perished, 
not from external force, but from internal cor- 
ruption, that invited invasion.” 

“ But, father,” said Albert, “ you did n’t tell 
Gracie what advantage she ’ll have from coming 
of age.” 

“ Not much, I fear. It is a sort of legal 
fiction. The law does not give her control of 
her own property until she is twenty-one; so 
that if she marries at eighteen she never has its 
control. It passes from the hands of guardian or 
trustee into those of her husband. But this 
fiction comes down from the olden time. When 
boys and girls were apprenticed, the girl was set 
free at eighteen. It is the mass of obsolete stat- 
utes that makes the study of law intricate. It 
might be easily simplified, so that any man or 
woman of intelligence could understand it. But, 
then, what would become of the lawyers? You 
recollect, Edward, that I took you once into court, 
and the crier, in convening it, called aloud, 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


133 


‘ O yes ! O yes ! O yes !’ — an utterly meaningless 
call, a relic of the time when French was used 
by educated people, and criers called, Oyez, Oyezl 
(hear, hear!) to secure attention.” 

“ I do n’t see, then, that Gracie gains any 
thing,” persisted Albert. 

Not unless she chooses to marry without my 
consent, or to go out and earn her own living.” 

Then, she does n’t have to obey you now ?” 

I have no longer a legal claim upon her 
obedience, but on her confidence, her gratitude, 
her love for me as her father, I hold a valuable 
claim — one that should last through life, and that 
I do not expect to relinquish, even in heaven. 
In the same way she holds my love and tender- 
ness, so that even wrong-doing on her part (if 
that were possible) could not sever it. She can 
always come to me in any trouble, or even after 
any sin, with the confidence of a child. I should 
be unworthy to bear the name that our loving, 
forgiving heavenly Father has so honored, were 
it otherwise. Remember, my dear children, that 
my highest happiness on earth must come through 
you ; that real parental love is deathless, eternal 
as God’s love.” 


134 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 




t HE next morning Mr. Charlton called Grace 
to go out with him on the farm. As they 
5 walked along he said : ‘‘ I would like to 



make provision for you, Gracie, since it is 


so hard for a woman to find suitable work. 


Boys can take care of themselves, and generally 
do better when compelled to do so; but every 
woman should be placed above the tem[)tation of 
marrying for money, by practical training or safe 
investment. But you know I have no bank- 
stock — nothing but the farm. Your mother’s 
])roperty has remained safely invested, as her 
father left it. She has used the interest for your 
education and her own pocket-money, and it has 
clothed you both. It is probable that she means 
to leave it to you ; but I will not suggest even 
this — it is her own property. Now, dear, shall I 
give you land or fruit-trees? I am anxious that 
you should hold something that will yield you a 
trifle ; but if I give you a part of the land it 
might make trouble in case you marry.” 

“ O father, I am not likely to marry. But 
the boys should have the land. It is not more 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


135 


than they will need; and I will keep house for 
them, and wait on you and mother when you 
are old.” 

“ Thank you, my dear. Stop a moment ; I 
want to look at the cows. Ha ! Lily — pretty 
Spot! Don’t you think them pretty?” 

“ Indeed, they are, father. They are so gentle, 
too. See them coax me to pet them !” 

“Then, take these two as yours. Now, come 
a little farther. Here is a row of fruit-trees that 
shall be yours. They are just coming into bear- 
ing, and are all grafted trees. The fruit of these 
you must sell, and they ’ll continue to increase in 
value for some years.” 

“ Why, father, I feel rich. I could rest under 
my own vine and fruit-trees ; but I like our roof- 
tree best.” 

Next morning Grace found her cows orna- 
mented with tiny bells, tied to their horns with 
blue ribbons — Grace’s favorite shade, too — and 
each fruit tree had a zinc tablet with “ Miss Grace 
Warrener. Do n’t touch.” It was evidently Al- 
bert’s work. 

Ever since the boys were twelve years old 
their father had paid them a small w^eekly sum 
when they had been obedient and industrious. 
From this their contributions to the Sunday- 
school and Church had come, and it had fur- 


136 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


nished their stationery, etc. Now the father gave 
each a row of fruit-trees, to furnish additional 
pocket money for their increased needs. 

For some months Miss Catharine held a daily 
Bible-reading with the three boys. For the past 
month she had explained to them our Savior’s 
institution of a visible Church and of the sym- 
bols of his suffering and death ; that he com- 
mands his followers to unite together for aid and 
sympathy and active work, that they are to honor 
him by openly professing their faith in him and 
working under his banner. She explained to 
them that, in partaking of the sacrament of the 
Lord’s Su})pcr, we pledge ourselves anew to his 
service, and accept anew the salvation purchased 
by his sufferings. 

The first Sabbath in July the three lads stood 
among a circle of young people, avouching them- 
selves to be the Lord’s, and accepting the seal 
of adoption into the great family in heaven and 
earth. “ Now, then, ye are no more strangers 
and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints 
and of the household of God.” 

Jim’s heart swelled with the grandeur of the 
thought: ro more alone and friendless; every 
Christian Church was to him a home. 

“ The household of God !” Here was a won- 
derful talisman to keep him from evil. How he 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


137 


watched against temptation, lest it might lead 
liim to forfeit his adoption! The idea elevated 
and spiritualized his whole being. From a sen- 
sual animal Jim was growing into a noble Chris- 
tian manhood. 

It was rich food for the village gossips, that 
the coarse, ignorant beggar-boy, whom Mr. Charl- 
ton had picked up in some gutter in Cincinnati, 
had actually been set up as their equal — taken 
into Church, indeed 1 The story was told with 
colorings and additions, until it reached the ears 
of the wheat-threshers. They had been incensed 
when they found that Mr. Charlton would not 
employ them this Summer, as he had done for 
many Summers, and now, when they learned that 
it was in order to keep whisky from Jim, and 
that he had joined the Church, they swore that 
Mr. Charlton should not save him ; they would 
make him drunk before they left town. But they 
were careful to keep their plot secret, and no one 
at the farm dreamed of any danger. 

Jim was returning from the village one morn- 
ing with the mail, when the conspirators saw him, 
saw that he was alone and walking slowly. One 
of the strongest was sent to intercept him in the 
road with a bottle of whisky, while others con- 
cealed themselves in the bushes on the place, 
ready to help in case of need. They feared to 


138 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


excite attention and alarm him by going in force. 
Jim came on slowly, his head bent in musing, his 
thoughts so far away that the coarse, burly fellow 
had seized him with an iron grip before he was 
conscious that any one was near ; and no one else 
was in sight. Involuntarily he shrieked, and 
then an earnest prayer for help arose from the 
terrified boy. He felt at once that to struggle 
would be useless; his little remaining strength 
was thrown into prayer, and the effort with which 
his clenched teeth resisted all attempts to pry 
them open. The foul smell of the liquor made 
him faint; there was no temptation now in it; 
but his strength was failing. The wretch saw 
that he would not yield, and called to one of his 
comrades to bring tools from the machine to 
break his teeth and hold his mouth open. But 
both prayer and shriek had been heard. Sud- 
denly Edward turned the corner, coming from 
the farm on horseback, on his way to Ida. He 
caught the situation at once, saw the men run- 
ning with tools, and realized that there was not 
a moment to lose. Any measure to be effectual 
must be decisive. He raised his riding whip, 
and struck the man a sharp stroke across the 
eyes. The sudden agony made him release the 
boy, and stagger back. Instantly Edward seized 
Jim’s hand, and swung him up behind him, and. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


139 


as the men came running up, the swift horse car- 
ried them over the hill at so rapid a pace that 
they soon discontinued the hopeless pursuit. 

It was months before Jim dared to leave the 
place alone; but his heart w^as comforted and 
quieted by the thought that God answered his 
prayer, and sent Edward in his sore need, as 
surely as he sent his angel to shut the lions’ 
mouths when Daniel was in danger. • 

With the coming of Summer Ida had given 
up her task of dress-making ; for the women no 
longer needed her. As soon as they began to 
realize their own ignorance they began to im- 
prove, and with the realization of this fact of 
improvement came ho])e and vigor to stimulate 
the sluggish brains and energize the weak bodies, 
liife opened before them as it had never done in 
their youth ; they worked now with interest and 
hope. Ida had often read to them as they 
worked. She had taught them to love pure, ele- 
vated literature, to enjoy nature, to estimate 
something of the real value of life. All had be- 
come earnest, working Church members, seeking 
to uplift the fallen, to help the w^eak, to figlit 
against sin, and especially against the deadly evil 
from which they had all suffered. Their home 
was now neat and well ordered ; the child had 
grow’u sweet and lovable under Miss Ida’s training. 


140 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


They prospered in their business, and managed 
their affairs prudently. 

When Miss Ida came to leave them they had 
begun to understand something of her motives 
and of the good she had done them, and remem- 
bering how they had once thought her presence 
a restraint and her neat, careful ways fussy and 
unnecessarily strict, they were humble as well as 
grateful ; and she left them with the glad con- 
sciousness that her work was already bearing 
fruit. 

Yet no less is our work accepted when no 
fruit appears. The motive from which we labor, 
the spirit in which we offer our lives to the ISIas- 
ter, is the real service. We plant acorns, and no 
result of our planting appears ; yet many genera- 
tions shall rest under the shadow of our oak-trees. 

The Rev. Paul Warrener had waited long for 
Ida’s release. One afternoon he asked her to 
ride with him, and spoke of the good she had 
done to her four protegees. 

“You have already done more than many ac- 
complish in a life-time,” he said. “It would not 
be fair to ask you to take up a new task.” 

“Am I superannuated?” she asked merrily; 
“quite past all usefulness?” 

“ No, indeed. I trust that a long and useful 
life is before you. I am six years older than 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


141 


you, and yet life never seemed so full or my heart 
so young as now.” 

They were riding through the woods, and the 
sweet birds trilled joyously their songs of youth 
and love. All the world’s din seemed far away. 
They were passing through an enchanted land. 
The sunlight flickered through the leaves, and 
threw golden beams on the green sward, on 
mossy banks and fern-covered rocks. Yes, it was 
a grand, a joyful thing to live, and this was but 
the beginning of life — life here and hereafter ! 

I know a family in the village,” said Mr. 
Warrener, “ that suffers for want of just such care 
as you could bestow. It is a large one ; some of 
its members are feeble and some young, and it is 
motherless. The father does his best in his poor 
way; but how can he understand the needs of 
the little ones ? Are you too weary of care and 
trouble to resume them for the sake of these des- 
titute ones?” 

His tone told more than his words ; but, dearly 
as she loved work, was that all he could offer 
her? Only personal love could make a true 
marriage, and he spoke of duty! She answered 
quickly : 

It would be impossible to answer you, with 
no more knowledge of the case than your general 
description gives. The father may be a crusty. 


142 


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selfish old man, and I might think it best to take 
away the little ones and provide for them without 
him. Who are they?” 

They were just passing through one of the 
poorest, dingiest streets in the village. 

“ They are all around you ; but the ^ crusty, 
selfish old man ’ needs you most. Ida, you would 
complete my work. With you toil would be 
pleasure. You would spiritualize and eurieh my 
life until it could not fail to accomplish good. 
Ida, will you not be my wife? Will you not 
come to me as my friend and fellow-worker here, 
and niy eternal treasure ?” 

Still silence on the lady’s part. Was this all 
he could offer — fellowship in work ? 

“ Ida, my brother Howard loves your niece, 
and has already gained her father’s consent to 
win her if he can ; but his love is the growth of 
a few months, mine of years. I have loved you 
ever since you were a school-girl. Your silence 
tortures me. Say that you will be mine at once; 
I have waited so long. Let me take you to New 
York, and give my father and mother the joy of 
rejoicing with me.” 

The sudden, overwhelming thought that once 
she expected to go to New York as Arthur Mont- 
gomery’s bride swept over her, and she said hur- 
riedly, almost uneonscious that she spoke aloud : 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 143 

“O no! that would be impossible. I could 
not do that !” 

Now Paul waj silent; but at first Ida was too 
absorbed in the rush of old memories to notice it. 
Presently the very silence recalled her. She stole 
a look at him. He sat beside her pale as death, 
his lip quivering, his whole frame shaken with 
the effort to control himself. She began to real- 
ize what her words meant ; that in the hasty ex- 
pression of her unwillingness to go to New York 
as a bride, she had seemed to refuse his love. 
Her heart ached for the pain she had given so 
unintentionally. She could not speak, but her 
hand stole near his, and in a moment he would 
have understood her, when a loud voice startled 
them, and an old man on horseback turned and 
joined them. 

“ I ’m mighty glad to meet you, Mr. War- 
rener. My Tom ’s had a dreadful accident, and 
the doctor has to cut off tAvo of his fingers. He ’s 
awful afraid ; but he says if you ’ll just come and 
sit by him he won’t mind it. It’s a shame to 
trouble you, and Miss Ida, too; but you know 
Tom ’s the apple of our eyes, and I ’d ask the 
angel Gabriel down if I could get him.” 

“ Of course, I ’ll come at once, Mr. Morton. 
I ’m distressed about Tom.” In fact, the clergy- 
man’s pale face touched and comforted the father’s 


144 


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heart as no words could have done. “ But Miss 
Ida should not see the operation. I can give all 
the help that the doctor will need.” 

Just then a friend of Ida rode up on horse- 
back, and gladly gave his horse to Mr. Warrcner, 
engaging to drive Miss Ida home, and return the 
horse and buggy to the stable where they be- 
longed. He hoped for a long ride with Miss Ida; 
but she complained of headache, and preferred 
going directly home. When there, she excused 
herself, and, leaving him with Grace and her 
friends, went at once to her own room to think. 

“Why did she always speak so hastily? She 
had been so long trying to overcome this bad 
habit, and now it had given Mr. Warrener so 
much pain.” There was no need to ask her heart 
whether it loved him. It was with him on the 
long road, in the room of suffering, in the sadness 
of his lonely return. Nor could she longer doubt 
his love. His extreme distress at her apparent 
refusal could not be merely the effeet of disap- 
appointed plans or wounded self-love. 

Yet she had tortured him so ! Well, he would 
speak to her again, and she would make amends 
for his suffering. But he neither came nor wrote, 
and she went to the next AYednesday evening 
prayer-meeting with a desperate resolve to make 
him understand her. They were early, and as 


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145 


he came forward to welcome them, Ida asked 
hurriedly, “ How is Tom Morton ?” and in the 
same breath, with a morbid dread of interruption, 
“ You did not quite understand my last remark 
the other day, I think. It was quite irrelevant.” 

The sudden change in the clergyman’s face 
showed that he understood at last, and as he 
walked home with her that evening the full ex- 
planation that was given almost compensated for 
the pain he had undergone. 

Again Howard Warrener visited his brother, 
and came to the Charlton farm, but not with the 
timidity and wise caution of his first visits. He 
had now the father’s consent and Grace’s friend- 
ship to encourage him, and Grace was too noble 
and sincere to treat lightly a love so evidently 
pure and unselfish. She had never trifled with 
her own heart or that of another ; therefore her 
womanly instincts were still delicate and clear. 

“Thou sljalt know him 
By the holy harmony 
Tliat his coming brings to thee.” 

And so she loved as the flowers blossom, sim- 
ply yielding to sunshine and air and dew. 

Howard understood this sweet unconsciousness, 
and was careful not to disturb it by seeking any 
pledge or seal of love ; but when it was neces- 
sary to go back to business he asked how soon 
10 


146 


A JtAILJtOAD WAIK 


he might return and claim her as his bride. His 
question startled her. 

‘‘ O, I do not know. How could I leave 
father and mother and the boys ? — the dear old 
farm, too, where I have lived all my life? How 
can a noisy, busy city seem like home ?” 

“ We will make a beautiful home there, and 
our love will sanctify and endear it. I will buy 
a house and settle it on you, so that it may be 
your home as long as you live. Then it will 
grow more and more homelike each year.” 

“ I can not tell. I had not thought of it,” she 
replied. “ I have been too content to live in the 
present.” 

“ Let us go together and ask your father,” 
he said. 

They found him alone, under his favorite tree. 
Heartily he gave them his approval and good 
wishes ; but when Howard spoke of taking Grace 
away he looked grave and sad. 

“You do no': know what you are asking, 
young man,” he said. “ She is our one treasure, 
and so young! Surely you would not carry her 
so far from us until she is older and better able 
to take up the burdens of life. We might learn 
to deny ourselves and give her up in order to 
promote her happiness; but this would not pro- 
mote it. It could not be the act of wisdom or 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


147 


true love to send such a petted child out into the 
world without special preparation for it. Your 
early engagement may be right, because it re- 
lieves you both from uncertainty, and gives you 
the calm confidence and enjoyment in each other 
that makes this one of the pleasantest periods of 
life. You will need its sweetness to strengthen 
you for lifers tasks. You will have each other’s 
letters, and from them will learn any difference 
of taste or opinion in time to adjust it, or at least 
consent to it, before marriage. One great cause 
of unhappy marriages is, that the j)arties often 
know so little of each other.” 

“ But, father, when we find fault in each other, 
would it be right to break our engagement?” 

“It is a great mistake and wrong to enter 
lightly into a marriage engagement, but would be 
a greater wrong to both parties to consummate 
such an engagement wdien it is found that some 
hidden habit or sin will make the marriage un- 
happy. Little faults we all have ; but these we 
must try to overcome for love’s sake; and what 
require slow conquest, love must patiently endure. 
It is a mistake to call Love blind, as the poets 
have done. We would like to make idols of our 
dear ones, and fancy that they are perfect; so 
each discovery of weakness or wrong is a shock 
to us. Careful parents see more clearly the faults 


148 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


of their children than others do — see them in 
their first beginnings, because they want to keep 
the fresh, young souls free from stain. I believe 
it always startles and alarms us to discover that 
the doctrine of total depravity finds proof in our 
own families.’’ 

“ But, then, it really is not total depravity,” 
said Howard, musingly. Some excellent people 
escape it.” 

“Some have fought valiantly and steadily, 
and gained the ascendency ; but, as in any con- 
quered nation, there will always be rebellion and 
outbreak. We must expect it in ourselves and 
in others; yet — 

“ ‘ To patient faith the prize is sure, 

And all that to the end endure 
The cross shall wear the crown.’ ” 

Howard’s letters were frequent and full — a 
sort of diary of his daily life; and gradually its 
very activity and fullness attracted Grace. She 
began to feel that even the sweetness of this quiet 
home-life was not enough, and to study and pre- 
pare herself earnestly for the time when she 
would need all wisdom to guide her decisions, her 
plans, her work among the poor, her household 
management, her control and influence over other 
minds. As she learned more of her duties and 
her needs, she appreciated more fully the wisdom 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


149 


of her father’s decision. Had she gone to New 
York untrained to meet these demands, she would 
have been compelled to lean helplessly upon her 
husband or his friends, and so would have been 
in danger of forfeiting her true place in life, and 
depriving her husband of the helpmeet and coun- 
selor he had a right to expect in her. 

They talk of woman’s demand for education 
and opportunity as a new thing. Was not Deb- 
orah, the wife of Lapidoth (of whom is no reord), 
prophetess and judge in Israel? “And she dwelt 
under the palm-tree of Deborah, between Ramah 
and Beth-el in Mount Ephraim : and the children 
of Israel came up to her for judgment.” Did 
not Barak, when commanded to advance with his 
ten thousand men, and the Lord’s promise of 
victory over Sisera, their oppressor, say to Deb- 
orah, a woman : “ If thou wilt go with me, then 
I will go ; but if thou wilt not go with me, then 
I will not go.” Her presence inspired Barak ; 
and her song — please read it for yourselves — is it 
not wonderful for its talent and dramatic power 
at that early day? AVas not the highly educated 
Pharisee, St. Paul, instructed after his conversion 
by a woman? AVere not holy women chosen to 
aid the apostles in their work? Did not women 
lecture on philosophy in the best days of Greece 
and Rome? and has there not been ever since a 


150 


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long line of spiritual succession ? To take her 
proper place in the world, woman has only to 
grow into Wordsworth’s picture of her, drawn 
more than sixty years ago, before the present 
woman’s rights movement was ever thought of. 
He first describes a girlhood like Grace’s: 

“ She was a phantom of delight, 

AVhen first she gleamed upon my sight; 

A lovely apparition, sent 
To be a moment’s ornament ; 

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair ; 

Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair ; 

But all things else about her drawn 
From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; 

A dancing shape, an image gay. 

To haunt, to startle, and waylay.” 

Next he pictures her with the wisdom and 
dignity of a woman, moving harmoniously in 
woman’s sphere : 

“ And now I see, with eye serene. 

The very pulse of the machine ; 

A being breathing thoughtful breath, 

A traveler between life and death ; 

The reason firm, the temperate will. 

Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 

A perfect woman, nobly planned. 

To warn, to comfort, and command ; 

And yet a spirit still, and bright. 

With something of an angel light.” 

It is character, not position, that he describes 
here, and every earnest Christian woman may 
realize in herself this picture. Whether married 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


151 


or single, whether she rules or obeys, wherever 
she may be, will be equals to lean upon her, and 
inferiors to be controlled or guided by her, bring- 
ing the same need of self-control, of high princi- 
ples, and of thorough cultivation. 


152 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


m. 

t HE Rev. Paul Warrener was very busy. He 
had fortunately found a suitable house, with 
a large garden and shrubbery, and was hur- 
7 rying forward the necessary repairs. Since 
^ there were no church parlors, as in large 
cities, there must be room to receive all the con- 
gregation at the parsonage. It was a square, old- 
fashioned house, with a hall through the center. 
The back parlor was to be Mr. Warrener’s study; 
there were sliding doors arranged, so that both 
rooms could be thrown into one. The front room 
aeross the hall was to be Ida’s sitting-room, com- 
municating with the dining-room, and so she 
could see callers when the minister was busy, 
without his being disturbed by their conversation. 
Shutters, closets, and a porch were added. The 
house was painted in shades of brown — the shut- 
ters of the darker shade, the walls daintily pa- 
pered, and the woodwork painted, since it could 
not now be oiled. Then the whole was thor- 
oughly cleaned, and by December the furniture 
began to arrive. First the carpets were put down, 
the parlors alike, in light brown, with small 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


153 


bright figures. Each room had its own harmon- 
izing tints, and they might have been designated 
as the brown rooms, the blue, the gray and scar- 
let, the green and gold. All the whidows were 
hung with transparent muslin curtains; it was 
their aim to have nothing that would excite envy 
or prevent any one feeling at home in the par- 
sonage. Many of their people had cheap lace 
curtains ; but such curtains as Paul would have 
chosen would have soon made them discontented 
with their own. But none of the village people 
imagined how much the furniture cost. It was 
luxurious; but in its light brown coverings, and 
without any gilding, the parlors were plainer and 
less imposing than many of the village parlors, 
with their brilliant colors and showy mirrors. A 
few excellent engravings alone adorned their 
walls, copies of masterpieces. 

' Ida furnished the kitchen and dining-room, 
with Grace’s aid. The bed and table linen were 
prepared by Mrs. Brown and the girls, under 
Ida’s direction. 

Before Christmas Mr. Warrener transferred 
his books and personal possessions to the house, 
and slept there. Then written notes of invitation 
were sent to every member of the congregation, 
to attend the wedding of Miss Ida Rochester and 
Rev. Paul Warrener, at the church, on Tuesday, 


154 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


between Christmas and New- Yearns, at four 
P. M., and a reception at the parsonage on the 
following Tuesday, and earnestly requesting that 
no one would bring or send wedding presents. 
This notice relieved the gossips of much anxious 
speculation. They had watched and criticised 
every arrival of furniture, and had already begun 
to doubt whether the wedding would come off at 
all. It did come off, and with fewer blunders 
than usually beset that trying time. 

The day was brilliant, the church crowded. 
The bride was ready, and the bridal party en- 
tered exactly on time. Ida wore a soft dress of 
some thin, white woolen material, without veil or 
ornaments, except creamy white flowers in her 
dark hair and on her dress. The lace that 
trimmed it was exquisite. Luey Warrener had 
insisted on bringing it as her bridal gift. Grace, 
and Howard Warrener, with a sweet young neigh- 
bor and Edward, were their only attendants. 

After the wedding the family went directly to 
the parsonage, where Margaret had been keeping 
guard over the wedding supper. How pretty the 
new home looked ! How merrily they all went 
over it together ! How proud and happy the 
owners felt ! There was much joyous, child-like 
merriment around the table. But before they 
separated Mr, Warrener said : “ Brother^ I wish 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


155 


you to consecrate our home for ns and he 
brought a Bible, while all seated themselves near. 
Mr. Charlton read: 

“ O Lord God of Israel, there is no God like 
thee in the heaven, nor in the earth ; which 
keepest covenant and shewest mercy unto thy 
servants that walk before thee with all their 
hearts. Have respect to the prayer of thy serv- 
ant and to his supplication, O Lord my God, to 
hearken unto the cry and the prayer which thy 
servant prayeth before thee, that thine eyes may 
be open upon this house day and night. Now, my 
God, I beseech thee, let thine eyes be open, and 
let thine ears be attent unto the prayer that is 
made in this place.” 

“ Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ 
also loved the Church, and gave himself for it; 
that he might present it to himself a glorious 
Church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such 
thing; but that it should be holy and without 
blemish. So ought men to love their wives as 
their own bodies. He that lovcth his wife loveth 
himself.” 

A short prayer of gratitude, of trust and sub- 
mission for the future years, followed, and they 
parted with an added sense of the dignity of a 
Christian home and of new self-consecration. 

The reception was a great success. It united 


156 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


pastor and people, and made the few shy mem- 
bers of the congregation and strangers feel a per- 
sonal interest in the parsonage. 

Ida wore her wedding-dress, and she and Mr. 
Warrener received every one with kindly cor- 
diality. The whole house was lighted up and 
thrown open for inspection. The simplicity and 
harmony everywhere, and its fitness for designed 
uses, made it an object-lesson in taste, in art, 
and in good sense. Henceforth it was sufficient 
to justify any innovation, that “it was so at the 
parsonage.” 

Among the happy throng no one was more 
interested and delighted than Mr. Morton and 
Tom. Ida, conversing quietly with a guest, heard 
the father say in hearty tones : 

“ Mr. Warrener deserves to be happy, if ever 
a man deserved it. Why, he was as distressed 
about our Tom’s accident as if he had been his 
own brother. He held his hand steady all the time 
the doctor was cutting and bandaging it; and then 
he staid with him and comforted him better than 
his mother could ’a done, till he fell asleep. He 
used to come and bring him books and candy. 
And when Tom got well, seeing it was his right- 
hand and he ’d no use of it, he had him come to 
his study, and taught him to write with his left- 
hand ; and then he hunted round, and got him 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


157 


books to post up and writing to do. So Tom 
earns his own money, and is independent as any 
body. YeS; indeed ! we’ve got a first-class min- 
ister and a first-class minister’s wife — no mistake 
about that.” 

It was the first intimation Ida had of this 
quiet beneficence, and it warmed her heart with 
gratitude and love. After an abundant but sim- 
ple supper, and some excellent sacred music on 
the parlor organ by Grace, Mr. Warrener read a 
few well-chosen words from the Bible ; then all 
joined in a familiar hymn, and a short prayer 
closed the happy evening. 

In March came a time of severe cold. It had 
been mild for days, and now the sudden sharp- 
ness inflamed Mrs. Gray’s weak lungs, and made 
breathing a painful effort. 

Only for a few days. The Master had been 
training and disciplining her for years. He had 
sat by the refining crucible until her heart and 
flesli failed. Sometimes he seemed to have for- 
saken her, sometimes to overwhelm her in anger, 
when, crushed and hopeless, she could only say, 
“ Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” 
But now the time of chastisement and of seeming 
neglect was over forever. Now his presence 
made suffering endurable, and the hope before 
her, the certainty that the fiery desert was past 


158 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


and the land of rest in sight, gave her the sim- 
ple happiness of a trusting child. 

Jim watched her with the devotion of a son. 
His strong arm always lifted her tenderly, and 
arranged her pillows as she liked them. At 
night he laid his pallet in the hall outside her 
door, but seldom went to it. He seemed to prize 
every moment in her presence, yet never troubled 
her to speak, and no one understood as quickly 
the signs by which she made known her wants. 
He had just lifted her, to aid the struggle for 
breath, when she laid her head on his shoulder, 
and was gone. 

Weeks before, while apparently in her usual 
health, she had written to each a short note of 
farewell, and of each one she begged, as a per- 
sonal favor, that they would not mourn her loss. 
In the letter to her brother she said : 

“ I shall pass out of darkness into light, out 
of pain into perfect pleasure, from heart-loneli- 
ness and sorrow to the welcome of my children 
and my husband, out of sin into perfect holiness, 
from doubt of God’s love for me into the pres- 
ence and likeness of Christ. Can you mourn for 
this? Will you not rather rejoice with me, and 
sing glad hymns around my grave, as did- the 
early Christians?” 

And so tliey laid her to rest, in the glorious 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


159 


hope of a joyful reunion, assured that the grave 
closed only upon the worn-out, weary body, the 
“ cast-off dress.” It had been her earnest request 
that there should be no black at her funeral, no 
mourning-dress worn for her; that the home-life 
should be no less cheerful, missing her. 

“ Father,” said Grace that evening, earnestly, 
“ I have been trying all day to realize the life on 
which Aunt Mary has entered; but it seems to 
me we know so little of it.” 

Probably we know as much as is possible to 
our earthly faculties. Our missionaries find great 
difficulty in teaching savages about love, purity, 
self-control, since their languages contain no 
words that can express them. Nor can. you ex- 
plain a fine painting to a blind man, or the glory 
of the stars. How can he imagine sunlight? 
How can a deaf man appreciate music, unless, 
like Beethoven, he has become accustomed to 
connect certain sounds with musical signs before 
he became deaf? Can the dark little bulb, under 
ground all Winter, tell what the full-blown hya- 
cinth will see or be like? Albert, please bring 
my pocket Bible from the library table.” 

“Yes, father; but we all hunted through our 
Bibles yesterday, and found so little, except in 
Revelation.” 

“ Last evening I made a list of our Savior’s 


160 


A JtAILHOAD WAII'. 


allusions to heaven. Let us see if we can under- 
stand them. He spoke of it as ‘ The kingdom 
of God;’ ‘Joy in the presence of the angels of 
God ‘ Treasure in heaven ‘ Blessed are the 
pure in heart, for they shall see God;’ ‘Then 
shall the righteous shine forth as the sun, in the 
kingdom of their Father;’ ‘ In the world to come, 
life everlasting ;’ ‘ Neither can they die any more, 
for they are equal unto the angels, and are the 
children of God ;’ ‘ That you may eat and drink 
at my table, in my kingdom ;’ ‘ Because I live, 
ye shall live also ;’ ‘ Father, I will that they also 
whom thou hast given me, be with me where I 
am" that they may behold my glory ;’ ‘ In my 
Father’s house are many mansions. I go to pre- 
pare a place for you. I will come again, and re- 
ceive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye 
may be also;’ ‘To-day shalt thou be with me in 
Paradise.’ This seems small in space; but it is 
much in promise. Christ may have said more 
than is recorded, or they may have understood 
him better; for it is certain that the early Chris- 
tians did not shrink from death as we do. To 
them it was the gate of life ; and so desirable it 
seemed that they often courted martyrdom as a 
swift way thither. Probably our Savior, foresee- 
ing this, was careful not to increase it ; for ob- 
serve how much. more he dwells on present duly 


A RAILROAD WAIF, 


161 


than did the apostles. The early Christians buried 
their dead with glad words and hymns of rejoic- 
ing, before the fuller and more attractive pictures 
were given in the Revelation of St. John. There 
are a few facts plainly stated in our Savior’s 
words, — 

The heavenly life is eternal. 

‘‘ It is on a far higher plane than this life — 
equal to the angels and the children of God. 

It is full of joy. 

It is in the presence of God. 

“ It is with the sight of Christ and his glory. 

We shall have treasures there. 

We shall enjoy the equivalents of earthly 
eating and drinking. 

‘MVe shall have homes in mansions, each pre- 
pared specially for us, our tastes, our needs. 

We enter at death into immediate enjoyment 
of Paradise.” 

O father !” said Edward, it does seem much 
as you explain it. It ought to satisfy us.” 

Yet we can learn still more by careful study 
of the Psalms of David and of the New Testa- 
ment. . We might deduce much from the analogy 
of God’s love and gifts to us here in this w’orld 
of probation and discipline. Our Savior him- 
self calls the eternal world a world of reward. 

Therefore, every beautiful and pleasant gift here 
11 


162 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


may well make us ask, ^ If these are God’s favors 
to sinners, and in a world lying under the blight 
of sin, what wonderful manifestations of love and 
glory and bliss will he make to his forgiven, ac- 
cepted children in the land of eternal blessed- 
ness?’” They sat silent for awhile with this great 
thought ; then the father said, Sing my old fa- 
vorite, Gracie, ‘ My Ain Countrie ;’ ” and soft and 
low the sweet girl sang : 

“ I am far frae my hame, and I ’m weary aftenwhiles 

For the langed-for hame-bringing an’ my Father’s wel- 
come smiles. 

I ’ll ne’er be fu’ content until my een do see 

The gowden gates of heaven an’ my ain countrie. 

The earth is flecked wi’ flowers, mony-tinted, fresh, an’ 

gay; 

The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them 
sae. 

But these sichts an’ these soun’s will as naething be to me 

AVhen I hear the angels singing in my ain countrie. 

I ’ve his glide word of promise that some gladsome day 
the King 

To his ain royal palace his banished hame will bring, 

Wi’ een an’ wi’ heart running owre we shall see 

The ‘ King in his beauty ’ an’ our ain countrie. 

My sins ha’ been mony, an’ my sorrows ha’ been sair ; 

But there they ’ll never vex me, nor be remembered 
mair ; 

For his bluid has made me white, an’ his hand shall dry 
my e’e. 

When he brings me hame at last to my ain countrie. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


163 


Like a bairn to its mither, a wee birdie to its nest, 

I would fain be ganging noo until my Savior’s breast ; 

For he geithers in his bosom witless, worthless lambs 
like me, 

An’ he carries them himsel’ to his ain countrie.” 

At first Ida did her small housework with- 
out assistance. Every thing was so clean and 
fresh and all in order that it was easy to keep it 
so. But as the months brought her more work 
among the congregation and more frequent calls 
from them, she was glad when Margaret sug- 
gested sending for one of her nieces to take 
charge of the parsonage kitchen. This was a 
great relief to Ida, who had been quietly looking 
over the community for some one whom she 
might employ. The universal tendency to gossip 
among people whose uncultivated minds and 
tastes find no higher occupation made her shrink 
from thus exposing her home-life to their discus- 
sion. A simple, truthful recital of their daily 
sayings and doings would not have alarmed her ; 
but the report would have been warped and dis- 
torted by their own ideas. 

Margaret^s niece was a fresh-faced, neat, good- 
natured girl, and, though only about fourteen, 
strong, and accustomed to hard work. But she. 
knew nothing of the dainty housekeeping at the 
parsonage, and could not understand why the 
steak and chops should not be fried instead of 


164 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


broiled. “ Why, you ’ll lose all the nice gravy, 
ma’am,” she said. 

Ida explained to her carefully that when meat 
is exposed to the brisk heat of a clear fire, and 
turned every minute or two, then left covered 
about ten minutes over a slower fire, it retains its 
nourishing juices; whereas in frying they are 
drawn out into the skillet and dried up. In the 
one case you have tender, delicate, nutritious 
meat without gravy ; in the other, nice gravy, 
with dried-up, tasteless meat. But if you want 
gravy, you can make it separately of tough scraps 
that are not nice for the table. 

The care taken, in washing the dishes and 
silver, to use clean, hot water and white soap, 
and to rinse every thing in clean, hot water; to 
wash the glass in cooler water, to avoid cracking 
it; to use only fresh, clean towels for this work, 
and to keep an abundant supply of these always 
ready for use, — was, to Norah’s untrained senses, 
quite unnecessary. But the parsonage seemed 
like a paradise to her, and Mrs. Warrener as 
grand as a queen ; and so she tried to learn her 
ways, in the hope of making this her home, as 
^Margaret had done at the farm. There she was 
nursed in illness and comforted in trouble, her 
letters written for her, and her wants supplied as 
carefully as those of any member of the family. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 165 

and a regard and respect shown that made her 
careful to deserve them. 

Ida had established a mothers’ meeting at the 
parsonage, which all the mothers in the congre- 
gation were expected to attend, for an hour’s dis- 
cussion of a mother’s needs and perplexities. It 
opened with a few verses of Scripture and a short 
prayer, and closed with a hymn ; but it was not 
a prayer-meeting, and the discussions were quite 
informal. There were many things that some of 
the mothers needed to learn, and no practical, 
useful topic was excluded, if it came naturally 
into the train of thought pursued. That the ill- 
nesses of their children might be the direct result 
of improper food or clothing was a new thought 
to many of them. 

This informal meeting gave Ida an opportu- 
nity to learn the characters and needs of her 
people as she could have learned them in no 
other way. She did not belong to the coarse, 
prying class of people who ask without hesitation 
questions about private life and domestic or per- 
sonal affairs that even a parent would not pre- 
sume to ask. Nor could she visit her people, as 
even some tract distributors have done, with a 
quick eye to detect any thing wrong. She rec- 
ognized the dignity of each individual soul and 
its right to unveil itself only to the eye of God. 


166 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


She knew, too, that to him each soul, however 
ignorant or degraded, is precious, and for his 
sake she sought to elevate and guide them. 
While she never attempted to find out any hidden 
burden, her kindliness and reticence encouraged 
some to bring to her their secret sorrows, and 
these she acce})ted as a sacred trust. Seeking to 
know no more than was voluntarily revealed, she 
lightened the sorrow as much as possible by aid 
and sympathy and words of holy hope. 

She never asked herself, “ Is this poor woman 
a Christian ? has she any right to claim God’s 
promises?” She knew that the love that sends 
his gifts of rain and sunshine alike to the evil 
and the good, and that wept in pity over proud, 
persecuting Jerusalem, would receive the most 
unworthy as soon as they approached him in 
trust. Could any thing be more unlimited than 
the many promises? — 

“ Whoso cometh unto me, I will in no wise 
cast out.” 

Whosop:vek will, let him take the water of 
life freely.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


167 


mi 


W OWARD WARRENER again visited his 
Pi y brother ; but now his object seemed to be 
only to urge on his marriage. “ The year 
of engagement will soon be over/’ he in- 
sisted. ‘‘ It seemed to me a long time, and 
I secretly rebelled against it ; but you were 
right. Yet now that Graee has improved it so 
well, since she is so thoroughly fitted for her new 
work, you can not be so cruel as to extend it 
unnecessarily.” 

Howard was right. The impression left by 
her aunt’s death, the serious and thoughtful 
course of study that she had pursued, had ma- 
tured her character. Although not quite twenty, 
she was a woman in mind and manner. A quiet, 
self-possessed dignity had taken the place of her 
girlish impulsiveness. She had learned on what 
doctrines she could lean with unwavering trust, 
and what motives should prompt her. She had 
learned, too, her right to carry out her own con- 
victions of duty, and her own individuality, in 
her daily life, and to live as one more accounta- 
ble to God than to any human being. Now she 


168 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


took as her motive for action and her reward this 
motto : “ As to the Lord, and not unto men.” 

Mr. Charlton could only acknowledge the 
justice of Howard’s plea. He saw, too, that 
Grace was ready to go with her lover, that her 
trust and regard were stronger than at the time 
of their engagement, and that her faculties seemed 
to ask a wider field ; so he said : 

Leave her as long as you can, and bring her 
back often. I see that she is now yours ; but not 
long ago she was wholly ours.” 

It was finally decided that the marriage should 
take place about the 1st of December, and that 
the young people should spend the holidays at 
his father’s house, selecting their home and mak- 
ing their family arrangements afterward. Grace’s 
pretty assortment of under-clothing was already 
prepared. Mrs. Brown made her simple wedding 
dress and traveling dress and her dainty house 
dresses ; but she took with her the money to pur- 
chase her street and evening dresses, and have 
them made in New York under Lucy Warrener’s 
directions. Bonnets, articles of adornment, and 
even boots, were to be bought there at her leis- 
ure ; and so, instead of a weary woman exhausted 
with sewing, Howard Warrener found a fresh, 
blooming bride, worth more to his beauty-loving 
eyes than the trousseau of an empress. 


A HAILMOAD WAIF. . 


169 


It is strange that at that sweet, sacred, solemn 
time the principal thought seems so often to be 
of clothes ! “ Is not the life more than meat and 
the body than raiment?” 

The Rev. Paul W arrener performed the mar- 
riage ceremony at the farm-house. It was early 
in the evening, and the rooms were beautiful with 
flowers and loving faces. Lucy Warrener was 
chief bridesmaid, and Edward and his friend, 
Rosalie Thorne, again officiated. But there was 
one disappointment. Ida had not been well since 
the birth of her boy, and now a sudden change 
of weather made it unsafe for her to attend the 
wedding; so they gave her her reward, and she 
was more than content. She had a theory that 
it is not -well for a young bride to go at once 
among strangers while her husband is still a 
comparative stranger, and therefore had urged 
them to come directly to her house after the fes- 
tivities of the evening, and spend a quiet week 
there. Now they granted it, since otherwise 
Lucy would not have seen her friend or her 
nephew. This interval softened the sadness of 
parting, and instead of going from the excite- 
ment of the wedding to contact with strangers, 
ever ready to notice and criticise a bride, they 
were able to start on their journey with the as- 
sured dignity and coolness of old married folks. 


170 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Two Summers had brought back Grace to the 
farm, each time lovelier to the loving eyes and 
hearts there. This third Summer Howard brought 
her earlier, to help celebrate Edward’s coming 
of age. Ida and her husband were already there, 
with their two little ones, when the travelers ar- 
rived the day before. The family held their cel- 
ebration in the morning; the congratulations were 
given, and many valuable gifts. Then all fol- 
lowed Mr. Charlton to a lovely building spot not 
far from the house. Here surveyors’ stakes were 
already placed, and they inclosed ground for a 
garden and orchard, as well as for a house and 
stable. Mr. Warrener read the deed aloud, re- 
citing the metes and bounds of the property, and 
handed it to Edward. 

“ My friend,” said he, “ you are now a free- 
man in law and a freeholder. Never forget that 
your highest honor and privilege is, that you are 
also the Lord’s freeman.” 

It was an unexpected gift ; but Edward was 
at no loss to understand its meaning. It implied 
confirmation of his love, and a desire to make a 
home for him. The good father knew well what 
a safeguard from evil and an incentive to effort 
is a young man’s love when worthily bestowed. 
In the afternoon his friends came for a lawn 
party, and the merry games and music and the 


A EAILEOAD WAIF. 


171 


choice supper seemed hardly needed on a day 
that home love and happiness made so bright. 

Howard was obliged to return to business ; 
but he left Grace at the farm, much to Edward’s 
enjoyment ; for he took her into his confidence, 
and now the two were busy with pencil and 
paper, drawing and changing plans of houses, or 
out-doors, staking out garden and orchard. At 
last they settled upon a plan, and Grace displayed 
it triumphantly. It was so pretty and so adapted 
to its use that the criticisms of the family fell 
harmless. It was a cottage of three rooms, with 
a half story, the half story to contain one nice 
bed- room and a garret-room. A simple porch 
was to offer the welcome that a porch always 
seems to give, and in time would be beautiful 
with vines. The house-plan was carefully marked 
out, and then a list was made of the fruit and 
shrubbery and vines to be set out. As soon as 
the weather permitted, Edward planted these, and 
before Winter had frozen the ground solid, the 
cellar was dug and the foundation laid. In the 
Spring the planting was finished. 

Edward worked earnestly on the farm. His 
father had promised him a certain share in the 
crops each year, since he preferred farm-life to 
any other. A position had been offered him, in 
which he could use and extend his knowledge of 


172 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


geology, that of mineralogist to a mining com- 
pany in New Mexico. It otfered, too, an oppor- 
tunity to make money; and for a time he had 
questioned whether it would not be best to spend 
a few years there on that account. 

But this safe, happy life, the home that had 
been dear to him since babyhood, were too pre- 
cious to be abandoned for money. Every tree on' 
the large place was dear to him. As he thought 
of leaving it, he could understand why Swiss sol- 
diers, forced away from the grandeur and beauty 
of their mountains, die of home-sickness. And 
as he thought of Rosalie, he realized that love, 
the tried and constant love of years, has a value 
far above wealth. He might amass a fortune by 
going to New Mexico ; but it could never buy 
back lost youth, lost health, wasted love, or, that 
fortune to its possessor, the ability to enjoy inno- 
cent pleasures. 

That Summer Grace spent at the sea-shore 
and the mountains with her little girl, instead of 
coming back to the firm. She was not strong, 
and her physieian prescribed bracing air for them. 
So the Summer was passed in steady work, and 
by Winter Edward had his house built and in- 
closed. Then, when storms raged around the 
cottage and no farm-work could be done, he 
worked with the carpenter, thus hastening the 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


173 


work and insuring its being done to suit him. 
When Spring brought its work on the farm, 
the house, stable, and poultry-house were com- 
pletely finished. Edward had only to train the 
vines at the porch, to plant the small garden, to 
cut the sod close, to make the walks, and plant 
flowers. His mother had the house thoroughly 
cleaned, and now sunshine and the sweet air 
would finish the work, drying the house to health- 
fulness, and coaxing forward the growing vege- 
tation. 

The joy of watching the development of beauty 
and promise around his home remained always in 
hij memory — a picture of happiness complete in 
itself, and yet looking hopefully forward. 

Rosalie’s father furnished the house, and this 
was also an enjoyment to Rosalie. She worked 
slowly, and selected each article for the new home 
with a loving care that gave it a preciousness in- 
comprehensible to any one living in a boarding- 
house, or in rooms furnished to order. 

By the time the pretty home was quite com- 
plete, the day to which they had given so much 
thought and preparation was near — Edward’s 
wedding-day ; and it was to be doubly crowned. 
They had chosen Albert’s birthday for their wed- 
ding, since they could celebrate his coming of 
age at the same time, and thus have this one day 


174 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


stand out in brightness as a perpetual joy of 
memory. 

The first bird-songs wakened them, and grate- 
ful heart-songs arose from parsonage and farm- 
house. Grace was there, with her toddling little 
girl — “ danpa’s darlin’,” as she called herself — its 
mother as ready to enter into the pleasures of the 
day as in her girlhood, and Howard full of boyish 
gladness and sympathy. 

When they met at breakfast, every one ex- 
claimed that Mrs. Charlton had renewed her 
youth, and Albert and Howard teased her to put 
off the wedding, and go to town and have her 
picture taken instead, since they might never 
again be able to catch that bloom and brightness 
for the portrait Grace had so long wanted. 

Yes : the parents were quietly, completely 
happy. No sorrow or shame had darkened their 
lives. Their children were their joy and pride. 
To-day would give them another daughter, would 
anchor their eldest boy near them, and make his 
life complete in home-love. Their youngest had 
safely passed the temptations of youth, and was 
entering manhood with noble motives and high 
aspirations. Grace’s character had rounded and 
enriched itself, had grown self-reliant and un- 
selfish with the trials and aids of a busy life, and 
Howard’s love and esteem for her, and his watch- 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 175 

fulnesst o save her every unnecessary burden and 
annoyance, made hjm dear as a son to them. 

It was to be a whole day of pleasure. The 
guests were invited to attend the wedding at the 
Thorne farm-house, and after the luncheon (or 
breakfast, as it is usually called) to accompany 
the bride in procession to her own home, and 
finish the day at the Charlton farm-house as 
Albert’s guests. 

The weather was perfect. The bride, in her 
simple dress of transparent muslin, with no orna- 
ments but flowers on her dress and in her fair 
hair, wore a beauty of varying expression that no 
artist could paint. 

The marriage was at twelve precisely. Then 
followed congratulations; and they sat down to 
the wedding breakfast at half-past twelve. At 
two the procession was formed, and moved on 
slowly to the new home, only a short walk from 
Rosalie’s old home. 

An evergreen arch, with “ AVelcome” in daisies, 
surmounted the entrance. The one front door 
opened into the sitting-room, where every thing 
was complete. The mantel was banked with 
flowers, and that and the adjoining bedroom had 
the white walls relieved with festoons of ever- 
green and pink and crimson roses. Beyond the 
sitting-room was the kitchen, clean and bright 


176 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


and temptingly fitted np, since this was to be also 
the dining-room. Some regrets were expressed 
that its beauty must be so soon spoiled, when 
Edward exclaimed oratorically : 

“No foot of foreign foe shall defile it. Here 
my queen will reign undisturbed, and in her 
path roses and violets spring up spontaneously.” 

The guests went everywhere, down into the 
dry, well-drained cellar, cool yet light and airy, 
with shelves and safe already in use ; up into the 
garret, where stood the cedar chest of the bride, 
with its promise of future comfort in soft white 
blankets ; to the full linen closet in the sloping- 
roofed spare bedroom ; then down to the store- 
closet opening from the kitchen, and already filled 
for use ; then out to stable and garden and 
chicken-house ; everywhere they went but to ad- 
mire, and some to envy. 

“ It is a perfect picture,” was the universal 
verdict. “ Every thing is so completely adapted 
to its use, every thing so harmonious. It will be 
like living in fairy-land to have such a home.” 

“And yet any of you can have such a one. It 
is only necessary to give time and thought to 
every point before beginning the work, and then 
steadily and perseveringly to carry out your 
plans. I have given to this little home nearly 
two years of thought and labor, and Rosalie 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


177 


completed them in fitting up and furnishing the 
home. ‘ No gains without pains/ you know ; but 
it pays.” 

Then they went to the shady lawn as Albert’s 
guests, but before leaving the new home were 
asked to drink to its prosperity in iced lemonade. 

Albert had chosen, as Edward did, to spend 
his life on the farm. His father had asked him, 
as a fiivor to the mother and himself, that when- 
ever he should marry he would bring his wife to 
tlie homestead, so that they should not be left 
childless in old age; and, in return for this care, 
Albert should keep it as his home. This sat- 
isfied him better than any change could have 
done ; so, while the guests admired his birthday 
gifts, there was no deed of land included among 
them. 

“ Ella,” said Mr. Charlton that night, when 
the merry party was over, and they were alone, 
do you remember when we two began life here 
alone? Tliose long, quiet, happy days! After- 
ward your father died, and Catharine and Ida 
joined us ; and now — look at our flock ! With 
Jacob of old I can say, ^ With my staff I passed 
over this Jordan, and now I am become/ not 
two but four ‘ bands.’ How rich we are ! — Ida 
and her children and husband ; Grace and How- 
ard and little May ; Edward and Eosalie and 
12 


178 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


Albert. And the best of all is, that these 
treasures will be ours for eternity. They can ’t 
be lost, as wealth and health and reputation 
may bo. What a family circle we shall have in 
heaven !” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


179 


t wo years passed in healthful labor and in- 
nocent pleasure, and now Mr. Charlton 
felt that Jim’s faithfulness deserved that 
Y his coming of age should be a white day 
3 in his life. They had no way of knowing 
the exact day. Jim could only remember that 
his mother gave him a cake and a peach, and 
said it was his birthday, and he was ten years 
old. It was only a little while after the Fourth 
of July. So they chose a day that promised to 
be fair, and sent invitations to his few personal 
friends to spend the afternoon and have an 
early supper at Mr. Charlton’s farm, to celebrate 
the twenty-first birthday of James Mason.” 

Jim received kindly congratulations from the 
family, and then Mr. Charlton walked out with 
him, to talk about his plans for the future. 

You are free now, James,” he said. Not 
only have you the privilege of voting, as a citi- 
zen, but your time is now your own. You can 
leave the farm and engage in any work you 
choose, or you can stay here, and I will pay you 
the regular wages of a man, leaving you to clothe 


180 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


yourself and bear your own personal expenses. 
It rests with you to choose.” 

“ O, Mr. Charlton,” he answered, “ do n’t ex- 
pect me to leave the farm. It ’s the only home 
I have in the world. The hardest time I ever had 
in my life — and you may guess I ’d some pretty 
hard ones before I came here — was that time you 
thought you ’d send me away. It turns me real 
faint now whenever I think of it. Why, sir, I 
love every tree and every animal on the place — 
and the family have all been so good to me! I’d 
rather work here for half wages than to get 
double wages any place else. I ’ve always counted 
on staying here, and when the young gentlemen 
had families of their own, and you were past 
work, I ’d keep things up, and you could rest.” 

“ That is just what I would wish,” said Mr. 
Charlton cordially. “Then consider this your 
home. But won’t you be wanting a home of 
your own some time?” 

“Well, sir,” said Jim, bashfully, “every body 
has some kind of a dream. I ’ve sometimes 
thought that when I save money enough it would 
be nice for me to rent one of your tenant-houses 
and have somebody to keep it snug. Why, that 
very first time I saw the place I thought I ’d 
never be content till I ’d a cow and chickens of 
my own.” 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


181 


“ A very natural and right wish. Save your 
money, and if you find the right friend, secure 
iier. You are as likely to have a home as any 
one I know. Come, now, and see your presents. 
I did n’t give them to you before, because I 
wanted you to be free to decide for yourself, 
without any bias of gratitude for favors.” 

Jim threw back his head and laughed — a clear, 
pleased laugh. 

‘^You’re too late for that, sir, the favors be- 
gan so long ago.” 

While they were out the gifts had been dis- 
played in the dining-room, and the recipient stood 
overwhelmed by what seemed to him abundant 
riches. Mr. Charlton gave him a complete suit 
of clothes; Mrs. Charlton, a nice pocket-book, 
with ten dollars in gold ; Mr. Howard Warrencr, 
a good trunk, containing Mrs. Grace’s gift of a 
half-dozen each of nice shirts, collars, handker- 
chiefs, and socks; Rev. Mr. Warrener gave him 
a small tool-chest, well fitted up ; and Mrs Ida, 
a dressing-case to hang on his wall, with brushes, 
combs, etc. Mr. Edward gave a set of books, 
and Mr. Albert a superior knife. Miss Catharine 
reserved her gift to the last, and presented it in 
person, because it was a memento of his first 
friend at the firm, Mrs. Gray. It was a small 
set of book-shelves that had hung on the wall 


182 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


above her lounge, so that she could reach a book 
without troubling any one to hand it to her. 
Some of the books had been Mrs. Gray^s, and 
some Miss Catharine had selected for him. 

After dinner the guests came, and it might 
have been remarked that Norah was the only 
woman invited, but for the fact that she Avould 
naturally come to help her aunt. She was a shy 
girl, and did not join the other guests till supper- 
time. Meanwhile the young men were interested 
in strolling about the farm, in gathering fruit for 
themselves, and in the lawn-games, while they 
talked over their plans for the future. 

Margaret and Norah set the supper-table on 
the lawn, and the early supper did credit to the 
farm’s resources and to Margaret’s cooking. 

Afterward Norah was clearing the table, when 
Jim took the heavy tray of dishes from her to 
carry it into the house. It was a favorable mo- 
ment, and he improved it. 

“ Do n’t hurry away, Norah. I ’ve my chores 
to do, and then I’ll walk home with you.” 

Under the early stars Jim told his love, and 
Norah promised to wait for him until his home 
should be ready. In the new dignity and pride 
of this last possession Jim became erect and 
manly, his face grew brighter, his whole manner 
more alert. It is a repetition of the old miracle 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


183 


of fire from heaven, and that is not true love that 
does not elevate and refine and purify and sweeten 
the heart to which it conies. 

“And it came to pass after these things that 
God did tempt [or test] Abraham.” 

After what things? After calling him out 
from his own native land and friends to wander, 
homeless and landless, in a strange country ; after 
sending there a famine that compelled him to go 
down into Egypt for food, at the risk of losing 
property and life under the despotism of Pha- 
raoh ; after promising that his descendants should 
be as the stars for multitude, yet leaving him 
childless when nearly a hundred years old; after 
raining from heaven fire to consume the home of 
his nephew. Lot, and sending him, homeless and 
miserable, into the mountains, — after all these 
trials, was another test of Abraham’s faith 
needed ? Yes ; for only through trial do we gain 
strength and self-knowledge. We give vigor to 
our bodies by exercise, not by rest. Courage 
and power of endurance come through danger 
and hardship, not by ease ; and we take our 
strongest hold of God’s mercy and omnipotence 
when storms without and doubts within strive 
hardest to drive us from him. 

They had carefully guarded Jim from tempta- 
tion, had taken from his path every “ stone of 


184 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


stumbling,” and had felt that his safety lay rather 
in the formation of good habits than in the at- 
tainment of high principles. But it is easy virtue 
to follow the narrow path in sunshine. The at- 
tacks of Apollyon, and the lonely way through 
the valley of the shadow of death, are true tests 
of faith and courage. 

Jim had gone one day to the post-office near 
the 'Station, and was just starting for home, when 
an accident drew his attention. Several lines of 
road centered there, and a brakemen had been 
struck and his arm crushed, by an incoming 
train. They lifted the man, and carried him into 
the station ; and then the cause of the accident 
was evident — he was stui)id with liquor. 

What is to be done with him ?” was the cry. 

The conductor of his train said : 

Take him to some doctor. I can T take him 
on to St. Louis in that state; and, besides, I 
did n’t mean to keep Mason. He ’s only worked 
for a few days, and has been half drunk all the 
time.” 

So the train sped out, and the half uncon- 
scious man lay groaning on the hard bench. But 
Jim’s heart echoed every groan. The unhappy 
man was his father. Though he had not seen 
him for so many years, he had never forgotten the 
strongly marked, brutal face that had been the 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


185 


terror of his boyhood. What should he do? 
O, what ouyht he to do? Could he take up this 
loathsome burden? could he bear the disgrace 
of calling this man father? What would his 
Church friends think? What would Norah 
think? 

But they had taken a door off its hinges, and 
were already carrying the man to a doctor, and 
he followed them almost unconsciously. As he 
entered the office first, to make some support for 
the burden, the doctor greeted him cordially. 

“How d’ye do, James? Nobody sick at the 
farm, I hope ?” 

“No, sir; only a poor man’s arm crushed 
under a car- wheel.” 

“ Let me see. O, the worst of it is, he ’s pois- 
oned himself so long that there’s left no pure 
blood to heal it. But I can ’t do any thing here. 
He must be undressed and in bed. Where does 
he belong?” 

“ He ’s a stranger. But can you tell me of a 
decent place where he could be boarded ?” 

“ Why, no ; you see, he ’s likely to have de- 
lirium tremens. Yes, there ’s the widow Jones. 
Her sons are strong, good-hearted young fellows, 
and they ’re just out of work by the stopping of 
that woolen-mill. She’ll be glad of the chance 
to earn money — if the man has any.” 


186 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


“ O, I ’ll pay his board awhile ; Mr. Charl- 
ton ’ll help me,” said Jim, hurriedly. 

So he helped to undress and bathe the poor 
wretch. They laid him on the clean bed in the 
airy room, and the doctor examined the arm 
carefully. 

“ It ’s got to come off, and there ’s small hope ; 
but it all lies in promptness. Can you help me?” 

If I may first take these letters home, and 
tell Mr. Charlton where I am. I ’ll be back at 
once.” 

Tl^e long walk seemed to take but a few mo- 
ments, in his mental activity. The hope of ad- 
vice from Mr. Charlton sustained him. But there 
was no one at home but Albert, and he hurried 
back. He had plenty of time for thinking as he 
sat, after the operation, in the darkened room, 
watching to keep the sick man from tearing off 
the bandages in his delirium. If he acknowl- 
edged this man as his father, he must bear all the 
disgrace he might bring upon him. He must 
give up all hope of marrying Norah ; for his 
father would be a helpless cripple; he might live 
to be old, and yet would always be dependent on 
him. Never could he take him to his own home, 
to have it darkened and defiled as his early home 
had been, and Norah’s life blighted like his 
motlier’s. 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


187 


Doubts of the divine love and care tortured 
him. He had been trying to do his best. How 
had he deserved this heavy burden ? Did God 
mean to crush him back into the wretched life he 
used to live? Would he not provide some way 
of escape from this trial, since he was not able to 
bear it ? The prayer rose to his lips, “ If it be 
possible, let this cup pass from me and with 
the prayer came the whole scene — the mystei ious 
agony in the garden, the human shrinking from 
the burden of our sins, the love that overcame all 
and endured all for our sakes. Falling on his 
knees, Jim confessed, with bitter tears, his un- 
likeness to Christ, his selfishness and self-seeking, 
and laid himself anew, soul and body, at the foot 
of the cross, to be used as the Master would. 
And with this self-renunciation came peace, “the 
peace of God that passeth understanding.” The 
burden remained ; he must carry it alone. But 
now it was a Christ-given cross, and he was to 
bear it after the Master, following in his very 
steps. Never had he so loved him, never clung 
so closely in simple trust and obedience, as now. 
Many weary days and nights did Jim pass in 
that sick-room, foul with oaths and curses be- 
cause all liquor was denied the invalid, but never 
once did he recall his decision, though Satan 
tempted him often to question it. 


188 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


When he told Norah, she had no reproaches 
for him, only praise of his kindness and self- 
denial. His forgiveness and patient care of his 
cruel father strengthened her love and confidence. 
It gave her, also, a new sense of duty and a new 
j)ower of self-devotion. She had appreciated 
highly the goodness of Mr. and Mrs. Warrener; 
but they were to her — the minister and his wife. 
Poor folks couldn’t be like them. But the good- 
ness of her own Jim was meant for her to copy, 
and love urged her to the task. Nor was their 
waiting time as long as they had feared. Strange 
as it may seem, they established their home the 
sooner, to have the feeble, helpless man under 
their care. Jim’s watchfulness and his kind en- 
treaties, his care to have his father suj>plied with 
coffee and nourishing food, had done much ; but 
what confidence could be placed in the perma- 
nence of any reformation after thirty years of evil 
habits? While in the village he might have ac- 
cess to liquor, however carefully guarded ; but in 
their own house at the secluded farm he would 
be safe. He lingered for several months. Mi.ss 
Catharine read to him daily, bringing always 
some delicacy to make the Bible-reading less un- 
welcome; and in time he began to understand 
some of the simple truths of the Gospel, to real- 
ize how he had thrown away a heaven-intrusted 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


189 


life, and to ask pardon, and strength to live like 
the good people around him, and to try to please 
God. Did ever any poor wretch turn toward the 
Father’s house, and not meet a loving welcome, 
even “while yet a great way off?” 

Men talk of the wonders of science and art; 
the most truly wonderful thing to me in this 
world is one beyond all human comprehension — 
“the love of God, that passeth knowledge.” 

Shortly after Jim came to Mr. Charlton’s, 
when his father’s terra in the work-house had ex- 
pired, and he had begun to realize the comfort 
and delight of life at the farm, he was tormented 
by the constant fear that his father might trace 
and reclaim him to work for him. The sight of 
a figure like his in the distance would make him 
tremble, and this fear often kept him from taking 
stolen trips to the village. Then it seemed to 
him that to meet his father would be the greatest 
possible evil. Now, as the father sank peacefully 
to rest, with loving words of parting and child- 
like trust in the mercy of God, Jim’s heart was 
full of gratitude that this privilege had been 
given him to save a soul from death. He thought, 
too, of the gladness with which the good mother 
and grandmother would welcome the lost one 
found, and that there was “joy in the presence of 
the angels of God ” over this penitent sinner. Ever 


]90 


A RAILROAD WAIF. 


after the crown of his early manhood seemed to 
him to have been, not his happy marriage with 
Norah, nor the sweet, bright children that blessed 
his home, but this immortal soul saved through 
his instrumentality, the first sheaf that he had 
been honored to gather for the eternal harvest. 

Jim had been a waif — a homeless, friendless 
wanderer. He had suffered from heart-sickness 
and loneliness, as any other child would have 
suffered. It was as much to quiet the heart-ache 
as to comfort him for want of shelter and food 
and fire that he had first taken the liquid poison. 
Then he had been lifted up into a home of hap- 
piness and abundance, and the years had been 
full of animal enjoyment. But when he was 
adopted into the Church universal,” and made 
a child and heir of God, through faith in Christ 
Jesus, the joy and glory of life seemed complete. 

He had become a man, with a man’s love and 
hopes, and the woman he would have chosen from 
the whole world, had the choice been offered him, 
was his wife, and she made his home attractive 
and restful. Soon his babies clung to him and 
caressed him, and they called out all the tender- 
ness and nobility of his manhood. All that he 
wished he had gained, and now, added to all this, 
infinite Love gave him a still higher post and 
still more satisfying employment. He had found 


A FxAILROAD WAIF. 


191 


the joy of self-denial for others, had tasted the 
sweetness of doing good, and now his most ear- 
nest and heart-inspired efforts were to follow the 
Master in seeking and saving the lost. 

Many a poor inebriate was rescued and re- 
deemed, many a desolate home brightened, many 
a neglected child saved through his labors. He 
had found the grandest joy, the highest spiritual 
elevation, in this work. 

Some day he hopes to win the noblest title on 
earth. Like the merchantman’s goodly pearl, it 
is worth while to part with all other treasure to 
secure it, to be numbered among the little band 
so honored as to be called “ workers together 
WITH God.” 


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